Beneath the Sparks

Whispered echoes, remnants of shadows dancing, flickering, beneath the incandescent veil of night. Somewhere in the background, a child's laughter, or was it the distant chime of forgotten bells?

Images flash, enigmatic, passing—an arm reaching for an unknown embrace, the fleeting sting of saltwater on skin. And time slips through fingers, grains of sand swallowed by the tide.

Do you remember the spider's web, glistening in the morning sun, or the way fireflies weave patterns with their silent luminescence, writing stories in the sky?

Underneath all this, a silence, the kind that hums with life, like the secret heartbeat of the universe, waiting, always waiting.