Start at the edge of tomorrow's whisper,
Arm your thoughts with shadows of fog,
Take two claps and spin like a dervish approaching infinity.
As the clock strikes the riddle unsolved, bend your knees like ripples on the unharvested grain.
With trembling hands, trace the outline of forgotten dawns,
Inhale the sighs of specters drifting through the lattice of silence.
Where vestiges of dreams collapse into laughter, rest beneath fading parallel lines.
Walk towards the horizon made of paper beats,
Let the wind guide your thoughts; cast whispers into the chasm beyond the loop.
And should you find the last doorway yet unchained, metamorphose into starlight (but remember to sprinkle moon dust).
Follow breadcrumbs of your own forgotten laughter: