Whispers from the Abyss

The ink tells tales, whispers in the deafening silence, as footsteps echo backward into the misty unknown. Riddles dissolved within echoes, strewn amidst the cosmic void.

Cerebral labyrinth, the bearings shift quietly, a clock unwound spiraling into darkness — the heart's rhythm synchronized with the tick of time undone. Stars blink hesitantly, closing their unwelcome apertures.

The calculus of dreams rests upon a fractured disk; memories dissipate like autumn leaves upon a windless sea. Haunting laughter of the unknown reverberates through the dormant trees of thought, falling into memories not yet born.

Why does the surface break beneath whispered breaths? Wires connected to stars flicker, entrapping the silence between galaxies in nets woven by light. The river of time flows both ways, yet the current remains unseen. But wait, the whispers sing.