In the quivering silence, when reality takes fleeting, mutable form,
the gears in one's mind often coalesce into familiar reveries,
echo upon shivering echo, cascading through dreamy nodes of doubt and wonder,
mimicking the frantic uproar of a herd of renegade thoughts
on the kinetic surface of a mindful universe.
Can you measure a whisper with an echo,
or hold the iris of trusts woven into forgotten embroideries?
Follow the red thread.
The sea-fogs speak vividly when forgotten margins breath frost,
conjoining mislays within suns suspended by strings never seen.
Proceed onward:
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