In the cradle of night, voices gurgle like spilled ink on canvas. Each word spirals, like shadows entwined.
What slips through the cracks of yesterday's dreams? A silver moth flutters, resonating with the unsaid; it drapes the air in filament threads of solitude.
Chase the reflected silence, where the clock rewinds, spilling sand into eternal horizons.
A dance of murmurs, walking backwards through time's unseen corridors; devour the echoes as they weave a tapestry of fleeting moments.
Underneath the fathomless sea of thoughts, a fish with a million eyes devours the light. Is it you or the ocean that cradles the weight?