Gentle Silence Overcomes All

The last candle flickers, its feeble glow casts dancing shadows upon crumbling walls, whispering stories of souls who existed in the twilight before dawn. An echo on these ancient stones, once sacred, now hushed by time's dignified passage.

"Have you ever danced with the darkness, bequeathed by the winter moon?"

The remnants of grandeur lay sprawled, fragmented amidst the cobwebbed corners of this forgotten sanctuary. Voices—invisible, inaudible, intangible—browse through the labyrinth of memories as if bound by tethered thoughts bridging the waking world and dreams that remain unsaid. The air thick with unspoken lullabies, apassionata by crickets, and a distant hoot of an owl, gently meld into one being.

Viarum desidia—whispers scatter like autumn leaves untouched by winter winds. Listen closely, and hear their reverberations in the chambers of your own heart, where silent memories endure their night vigil.

The Pendulum of Silence
Veils Temporis
Illusions of the Past