Upon a crumbling parapet where ivy dances a silent dirge, she found a watch — shattered, yet ticking in reverse. An invitation whispered from the future past, echoing into timeless voids.

​In the empyrean chasm lit by moon's pallid glow, I heard the symphony of the tides. An orchestral tide, a crescendo washing over epochs, blending whispers of phantoms with the immortal song of the cosmos.

​Here lies the fractured riddle entwined in nocturnal veils: "To journey, thou must fall not toward, but away, and time shall be thy tethered friend," sang a shadow, luminous in its darkness.