The hidden paths wind silently, weaving dreams entangled with stale breaths of forgotten moments.
Through the curtain of twilight, whispers pour like spilled ink upon the blank canvas of a phantom’s skin.
Thus spoke the invisible; Not with tongue, But through currents of sinking light, Carried on winds that have long since ceased.
In the convergence of unseen trails, I wander, tracing the forgotten touch of a hand made of mist.
Scarlet letters drip from silken webs, spelling curses in languages drowned under heavy silences.
The echo sings a gothic refrain, a lullaby for the forlorn; darkness, her eternal embrace.
Fragments of the unseen; Crumbled myths, Laughter once carried in empty halls Now resonate beyond the edge of waking.
Find your way through shadows: