The Woven Matrix

My eyes are open but sleep cloaked me with its velvet fog.

Here in the woven matrix, remnants of dreams forgotten linger and whisper across the cobblestones of waking thought.

The moon spoke in riddles, and the stars nodded their celestial approval. Stars like scattered seeds, waiting to sprout stories among the velvet fields of ages.

Fragments of a biography no one claimed to have lived:

a lone ship sails a roadmap of constellations
burnt toast with morning tea spilled onto an old vinyl playing the ride of the valkyries
pearls strung on telephone wires mocking gravity's law
the atom's playlist included tracks interpolated across decades and galaxies

Chase me into the garden. I'll show you where the stories leak through cracks in the curtain of reality.

Forgotten melodies echo in the cavern of time. A tale whispers echoic choruses around corners.