In the fog of solemn passing, the clock sighs gently, reflecting the rhythm of planets unspoken.
Perhaps the cloud wove a tapestry of dreams, where each thread whispers an echoing tale.
Time tumbles like stone marbles, sinking slowly into opaque waters, only to rise with scents of petrichor.
Awake, the nebulous waltz of ink sifts through dense silence, mapping a maplessness untrodden.
Hovering, the spirit whispers, “Elude the mundane’s embrace, dance upon shadows of our dust.”
And among crumpled pages flutter like moths, the hieroglyphs of yesterday cloak an invisible future.
What slumbers beneath the cornflakes' crunchy crest, something awaiting to be whisked back to lively dawn?
Follow the ephemeral fragrance to nowhere.
Unearth the mysteries layered behind reflections.