The scholars sit in shadowy circles, whispers skimming over echoes. A tapestry woven with untold refrains, yet its lore remains unlaid—
Through laced fingers trail footprints leading nowhere—
Tickling the air, thoughts linger without form, sliding like droplets on the unknown surface of dusk. A dialogue with the stars, fragmented, transcendent,
Windows are ephemera, doors illusions, and yet, where do these paths meander to? They less loop—
Cocoon.
The chrysalis hums softly now, bright amber sinking below day-edge, touching ground transient. When voices coarse through corridors of time, will they note the warmth?
Details obscure, like fog over mind-seas, yet the murmurs persist. Stay. Float. Breathe.
One footstep—
the clandestine journey across hidden reefs
and another—