Dust motes dance like hunchbacked ghosts in ballet. Each arabesque, a metaphorof memories that chill the twilight in the forgotten room's melancholyof tears. Weeping verses of memorieswhen we were but yardbirds perchedon a quill of unseen sentinels risingfrom elixir's...

𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓁𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓂𝓃'𝓈 𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓇𝒽𝓎𝓉𝒽𝓂𝒾𝒸 𝓅𝓊𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝒹𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝒹

In the shifting sands of time, I hold onto what’s been lost.The footprints fade as the water washes them away, reminders of my past. Among the grass,I can see a reflection of my creator. Behind the darkness, memories linger...