A spinning orb of sound drifts within.
Reverberations paint visions upon silence, unwritten things pulsating in cosmic hush.
It calls, "Why, orb, do reasons dissolve in murmurs?"
Listen closely
Listen lovingly.
Whispers seep from dusk-turned-lights. Empty room retains echoes of thought, neither owned nor borrowed. The ground unformed, awaits foundation.
Thoughts drifting anchors arise, nebulous in form. Moonlit shutters glide gently over fabric skies.