What weight does a soul carry when the sky holds all dreams yet not a single whisper? Floating amidst forgotten whispers, I search the spaces between breaths...
Clouds dance like ethereal dancers, and I, a silhouette of what once was, drift beneath their embrace. Each formation a thought untethered, an echo from the winds of yesterday...
Will the sun ever rise upon this liminal resting place, or are we forever bound to this veil of gray? Despondency weaves an intricate tapestry—where am I in this vast expanse?
And somewhere, I hear the faint laughter of days pressed against the horizon—perhaps this is the chorus of lost souls, melding into the very fabric of mist. Can it be known?
Seek the Fog Oracle Echoes of Dreams