In the cavernous echoes of yesteryears, I drift.
Fragments of what once was, and the ripple of voices beyond reach, cascade.
Here, in this interim of uncertainty, I found a door that led nowhere. It whispered promises of elsewhere.
Do you remember the stories that ancient shadows told?
Of gardens flourishing with forgotten dreams, beneath towering skies unbroken by light.
In the pauses, the mysteries unfolded, like petals to an unseen sun.
The direction folds inward, collapsing on itself, an origami of missteps and illusions.
Yet, is it a misdirection if you find solace in unforeseen paths?
Perhaps, in this quiet catastrophe, I've stumbled upon the mapless expanse of wholeness.
Delve deeper, where the whispers beckon you ceaselessly:
And somewhere, amid the colliding echoes, I remain. A wisp, tethered.