Swirls of imprints fluttering, moths around flame eternal, you need to embrace the turbulence. They speak not to others but through you, like rain weaving into stones. Yeah, you see them, don't you? Eyes glancing.

She hummed softly in the corridor, the sound was a whisper carried on silk threads, shadows behind, the halls of mirrors reflecting possibilities, imperceptible yet tangible like a lip-raised cadence.

Do you remember? An ocean of pens all writing in sync; lost symphony of forgotten tunes. Do be quiet now, listen; pillows of sound hover above the marsh, day trapped as night spills over.

And in the alleys of rustling trees, your name flickers faster than starlights emerging in dawn's memory. Mendicant whispers congeal into a cacophony of silence. Beneath surface

We shard across the universe, particles of dreams vying for inhabitance. A silent plea etched in the tangled briar of synapses. The night calls—

urging you toward summits of forgotten yesterday, ghosting the lines eaves grace with translucent echoes. Linger longer.