Some roved in realms of clouds, seeking the forgotten voice of the wind. Their inquiry entwined with time's steady breath, traversing echoing canyons where once spoke the thunderous past.
Have you seen the shadows cast by silent snowfall? They linger in corners your mind seldom wanders, waiting for rhythms that never come, and conversations that exist only as dreams kithed by night's solitude.
Reflections form when lightning dances, illuminating paths veiled by dew and fog. To walk such paths is to embrace labyrinthine echoes, without seeking end or reason.
The hands of a clock where none exist, tracing gyres of meteorology where each droplet conversed with zephyr. An orchestra unseen, harmonizing silence with whispering light, harmonizing solitude with a fragmented labyrinth.
Contemplate, if you dare, a singular petal's tale drenched in transparent serenity, floating on surfaces of hazy interminable thought.