In twilight's gentle embrace,
the clouds whisper stories—
of forgotten stars and renewed constellations
that were, but are not, and never will be, here again.
Do the clouds weep when we forget their shape?
Suspended in liminality, shadows dance on daylight's edge,
casting reflections in puddles of dreams.
Boundless echoes, unfathomable length,
a paradox breathing in hushed symphony.
Are we the dreamers dreaming the dream of clouds?
Upon the edge of forgotten shores,
a single teardrop magnifies the sky's realm.
Where sea meets paradox, there resides the truth:
the eternal now, shrouded in ever-shifting whispers.
Is the sky the ultimate mirror, reflecting our void?