Above, an ocean of whispered vapor fluidly drifts, parts unknown veilings in a sobering dance.
Fingers stretched wide across azure, clutching fragments of suns, trapped in vaporous embrace.
Above, they call this alchemy, rearranging the rubrics of sky and substance.
Lonesome echoes cascade through the awe of this skyward expanse; they drown in cryptic codes,
ever-present, an atmosphere laced with silent dirges, a plot without words, a riddle untold.
Perpetual motion—a cruelty hidden beneath soft contours of light and gloom, of shade and hymn.
Would you dare decipher these laments, codexes of clouds encoded in tears?
They ripple across the cerulean canvas—yet unseen by the unprepared eye, their language is lost.
Ascend, and you will witness: the unseen currents.