In the nebula of subconsciousness, where thoughts fragment into arcs of outlined night. "The shadows speak softly", guiding echoes that misdirect and gloss over the realities that were never dreamed.
Embedded whispers within the fabric of sleep weave a tapestry that shimmers not with clarity, but with traces of abstractions long miscomprehended. Reality drips like forgotten rain on the edges of silken solitude.
Have you ever walked under the fog where silence reverberates louder? Beneath the clatter of unknown dreams, it resonates: "What is not, in this world, is still elsewhere". This world of sleep, echoing with unanswered inquiries, awaits understanding. Journey unendingly through its mirrors.
Journey ahead, seek beyond veils in the corridors of mind. Perhaps truth dawns along the shadows: unveil, whisper to the resonances.