The whispers speak in colors unseen by the ordinary eye,
an emerald blink in a sea of sable infinity.
Time drips like molten glass,
refracting memories that never were,
yet feel like echoes of a forgotten now.
A gentle hum begins beneath reality's crust,
a vibration of the unspoken and unseen.
Jars of thought line endless corridors,
spilling secrets when brushed by a tender breeze.
They converse where the stars unravel,
weaving tales of light and forgetfulness.
Secrets hidden in plain sight,
wrapped in the tranquil chaos of lunar lullabies.