In the quiet unravelling of days unspoken,
a mirror trembles at the edge of consciousness.
Silent screams cascade down like whispered secrets,
flowing through the darkness that misunderstands their light.
To speak without sound is to dance on the edge of oblivion,
where moments linger like shadows upon water,
touching yet untouched, silent yet echoing within the heart.
Will the cascades remember the whispers,
or will the whispers be lost to the silence eternally?