Upon the solemn stones of bygone times, a voyeur casts furtive glances into the smoldering embers of extinguished dreams. Mausoleums whisper as night cloaks the unyielding truth.
Six ravens haunt the crooked eaves while fragments of lost notes drift like echoes. They diffuse dew and delusion, sprouting into strange shapes beyond the wisp of dawn’s surrender.
“What becomes of the nameless beasts that tread silently upon the frayed tapestries of reality?” an unwetched phrase uncurls, meant for ears forged in shadows.
Do you dare traverse beyond reason, into the corridors of time woven with the threads of immutable sorrows? Cast forth inquiries into the void; await the revelations in silence.