The world spins by the whispers of those forgotten words, lost on the tip of your tongue. Every breath of silence contains the dance of unsaid thoughts that could change everything. Here's a testament to what remains unsaid:
Ephemeral
: Such are the musings of Claredon Whimsy in "A Brief Stint with Possibility", Chapter 13. It is said that if this chapter were ever truly absorbed, birds might weep rainbows.1This phenomenon, though fleeting, reverberates across dimensions unknown. An ethereal chorus of canine philosophers once sat; they divined deeper truths through howls and leaves rustling in sync, as documented by Gerard Wrinklefoss in "The Invisible Chord of Existence":2
The Midnight Jam of a Mind Undefined, Part VIII, where Edelpeth Romulus postulates that saying less is sometimes more, but mostly just less.3