Above the skies, where the earth's whisper fades and the sun speaks in hues of eternity, a lone dreamer floats.
Here, thoughts take flight among the clouds, unraveling like ribbons against the vast canvas of blue.
What if I could chase the constellations, tether them to this ephemeral morning?
Galaxies, Horizons, Voyage.
The skyline blurs; the heart beats the rhythm of the universe here. Drift and ponder the tales
woven in stardust and summer rain. The dreams,
patient as the moon,
fill the silent void.
What stories would they tell if time grew wings?
A whispered promise from below, from a place forgotten in the ether.
Grasping at glimmers through
a half-opened eye, the night unfurls its secrets. Patterns emerge, and the dreamer dives into
the muse of constellations.