Glimpses of an ephemeral dance: the fog weaves through silence, threading moments between forgotten realms.
Anchor yourself in the orbit of choices made, when whispers leave trails like breadcrumbs woven of stardust.
Insights loom large, yet small enough to slip between the fingers, touching only the form of one's dreams.
The prism reflects thoughts birthed from echoes, casting shadows lighter than morning's dew-kissed shroud.
Portal of Congruence