In the silent corridors of a child's dream,
shadows take form,
painting stories upon the twilight canvas,
weaving tapestries between the threads of silk and smoke.
What lies beyond the soft glow of the moon?
Questions without mouths,
answers without eyes.
The door whispers your name,
does it beckon you to play,
or to dance beneath its haunting light?
The wise trembling trees know,
yet speak they never will.
Listen closely—
the wind carries secrets.
Theory / Whims / Reality
Laughter echoes in the hollow dome of stars,
children chase shadows, unaware,
unaware of the silent symphony playing,
orchestrated by hands unseen,
guiding them into the embrace of morning's truth.
But what is truth,
if not a reflection
in a fractured mirror,
a glimpse of the self
that never was?
Beneath the surface,
where colors bleed into each other
lies the Awakenings.
Origins / Echoes