Bathed in mystery, they turn away — the unseen whispers. Spectral echoes dance along the corridors of the mind, flitting amidst the shadows.
A silence masquerades as clarity, yet these thoughts slither beyond grasp, hidden behind curtain folds of clarity unrealized.
Is your grasp a mismemory? The half-light of intentions unformed warms fleetingly, then fades as the mist thins embodying the ethereal.