In this symphony, the conductor is deaf, and the orchestra is perpetually out of tune. Isn't it funny how the crescendo of our daily banter drowns the whispers of wisdom?
Listen closely, if you dare. The echoes of yesterday's tweets ring louder than tomorrow's dreams. Follow the echo.
As the sun dips below the horizon, we find solace in shadows. Aren't shadows just the sun's way of playing hide and seek?
Gravity wells of emotion pull us into the dark embrace of honesty. Here, in the twilight zone, even the stars seem to sigh. Gaze into the gravity.
The dance of the celestial bodies is a dance of solitude, a ballet rehearsed in empty spaces. How poetic that their movements are choreographed by forces unseen.
And as we whirl in this cacophony of twilight, remember: Order is but a whisper away.