The old lighthouse stood solemnly at the edge, its beam cutting through the mist like a memory lost in time.
Whispers of those who walked its spiraled stair echoed against the stone walls, seeking redemption in the ever-folding waves.
In the gardens of her mind, lilacs twisted into specters unseen; fragrant ghosts danced with the sun's apathy under charcoal skies, impelling fractured reflections.
Words spoken by glass-heart sirens floated on grief-stricken currents.
The symphony of forgotten nocturnes laid like velvet shadow across the heart of forgotten
A door ajar, leading to corridors of murmured stars beneath roiling oceans of stellar promises. Cicadas chorused illusions while time-warps folded experiences like origami swans upon somnolent fingers.
In one breath, the universe inhaled the aftertaste of dreams half-formed; in another, it unfurled.