Beyond the horizon where shadows sketch tales upon the gravel, a voice like melted sunbeams calls my name, weaving threads into a tapestry of dreams— Deja vu flickers as I touch its ethereal edge, a world breathing cadence, rhythm, echo.
The rust of names forgotten dances in fleeting twilight motes; old roads entangled, breadcrumbs leading nowhere, anywhere— pulsing like a lighthouse eye through rolling meteor storms. Here lies serenity’s deception, revealed in echoes resonating through tomorrow’s haze.