We wander beneath the flickering halos, faces turned to masks, hands fading from each other’s grasp. Ancient laws decay—soft as crumbling stone— words once holding us firm now fall silent in the swarm. Laughter tasting of shadow, eyes that only mirror, never see. Are we alive when we lose ourselves between hollow gleam and dutiful illusion? Soul-flicker… dim and dying, heart-shadows in a fleeting breath. Life—only a mirror of night-waves, un-lived in the river of the living. Skin of silence— we wander on, yet never find ourselves. Consumption as rapture, distraction as escape, the world vibrating in dissolving colours. Bound to the duty of function— we breathe… but do we still feel? Affection traded, closeness performed, friends like fading echoes in vacant halls. Every step obeys, every glance conforms— and still we dare call this life. Soul-flicker… dim and dying, heart-shadows in a fleeting breath. Life—only a mirror of night-waves, un-lived in the river of the living. Skin of silence— we wander on, yet never find ourselves. Ashen strings tremble, time-wind threads through woven flesh. Living-death pulses in the veins of the world— wreathed in shadow, never alone. Am I only the shadow of the many, or an echo of values long extinct? Loneliness between a million breaths— does what you call life still live in me? Body of flame, soul of ash, skin of silence— we are and are not, the living dead in borrowed flesh. Soul-flicker… dim and dying, heart-shadows in a fleeting breath. Life—only a mirror of night-waves, un-lived in the river of the living. Skin of silence— we wander on, yet never find ourselves.
