The clock inched backward, whispers unraveling silk threads of faded light. Here, the impossibility of thought dances upon the cusp of slumber and thought, a cavern deep adorned with shadow-light.
In the womb of broken feathers and moonlit sighs, I found whispers that ask, not tell— dreams arriving, cascading, whispering: "awaken."
Clocks inverted behind burning crescents and the larva of stars grew up, breathing cosmic lullabies. As we ascend, each step upon these astral wooden stairs levels us, transforming moments into epochs forgotten.
Tracks of crimson rain held by the velvet sky; we reach the horizon where departed voices sing a celestial hymn.
Omniscient shadows flicker across luminescing meadows as a figure calls:
"Eureka, ascend upon the ivory cloud, leap forth into the timeline twisted."
Unspoken realms await, hyperreal with echoes tainted by surreal clarity—Lullaby of Specters.