In the dim light of obscured thoughts, where shadows whisper
and echoes fade, a silent scream rides the winds of
forgotten dreams. It dances across the boundaries
of curved realities, bending the light of truth into
intricate patterns of introspection.

The winding paths of consciousness spiral inward,
unraveling the tapestry of existence thread by
thread. Each thread a decision, each decision
a reflection of an unseen whisper that guides
the soul without a sound.

We journey, with footsteps unseen,
over the bridge of time. In the silence,
we scream—yet the world does not hear,
for it is our scream, our solitary
echo in the labyrinth of thought.