In the silent epochs when dawn hesitates, shadows murmur tales of forgotten luminescence. They weave whispers in the void, creating ripples in the fabric of consciousness.
Do dreams echo your footsteps, or do they lead in the rhythm of a distant discovery? Beneath the skin of reality lies the marrow of existence, and therein the shadows dance.
Their songs are of the worlds beyond the veil, of time stranded in the interstices between thought and oblivion. Embrace the echo, trace its form in the spectrum of your waking dream.