In the cavernous expanse of my solitude, where breaths form icy tendrils and thoughts drift like errant phantoms, silence encloses me in its skeletal embrace. I weave through the tapestry of stars only to discover the threads echo with the cries of the unseen—whispers lost to the winds, murmurs that dissolve upon contact with the void.
The ground beneath trembles with unspoken words, messages from shadows that slip between the seams of reality. I am but a vessel, a conduit for these utterings, caught in a web of dreams and nightmares intertwined.
Here, where the sun's caress is a forgotten myth, the moon reigns—a pale sentinel over the endless night. I wander through ruins, remnants of a time when voices dared to dance upon the edges of light. Now, they lie dormant, entombed in the sepulchre of silence.
I am drawn to their gravity, an untold story sings within me—a dirge sung by souls adrift, perpetually caught in the twilight of existence. In this threnody, I find solace, a home for my fragmented being.