In the realm where shadows dance and forgotten songs resonate.
What demands to be remembered, yet eludes grasp?
Time weaves itself through the fabric of cosmic whispers,
A shroud of whispers, unkept echoes lost in style,
Fragmented sighs echoing across hallways of perception.
Strange visions paint the past with colors unseen,
an iridescent nostalgia unfurling folds,
Is it fleeting, or a mirror of existence kept on the edge?
Revisit Lost EchoesEach journey bends back upon itself in paradoxical laughter,
Lingering, poised at the precipice of what was and what shall be.
The hourglass languidly spills; grains of light through fingers collide.