A thought bounces, dragging weightless echoes behind it, a prism of memory refracting time into fragmented experiences—a kaleidoscope of chaos. Have you ever tasted the sound of a star collapsing? The bitterness of bright futures dashed against the rocks of now, a symphony of whispers unfolding like dreams in a dark hallway.
The color of silence, a lingering green, to bask in the glow of questions like moths around variations of a beacon's glow, pulse of light making shadows dance, fingers itching to touch the intangible. Faint laughter, forgotten footsteps echoing in the back alleys of consciousness, they converge where the forgotten meet dreams lost in the fabric of celestial tapestry.
Thoughts become dust, swirling through the void, do we touch the essence of knowing or is it merely a reflection borne on the wings of cosmic winds, softly wishing secrets into existence? Glimmering strings, plucked from the cosmos weave an image too strange to exist; yet here we are, muttering in the void, casting nets in the river of time, as fine as gossamer.