whispers in the rustling leaves— they say, transcription of the ancient echoes, voices hungry for recognition. once, i dreamed an incomprehensible map— its lines etched in the sand of time like a mirror to the soul.
does memory follow us or do we chase it into the abyss of forgotten dreams? today, a feather fell from the sky, said to be a sign, but it disintegrated upon touch, scattering into a million silent whispers.
in the corners of the mind, unspoken truths linger, waiting like shadows at dawn. they look at me with eyes that have never seen light, begging to be understood.
Waterlogged Murmurs
Edge of Oblivion
Labyrinth of Unspoken Thoughts