In the tapestry of clouds, where memories weave and dissolve,
a clockwork heart ticks quietly beneath the velvet void,
its gears turning dreams into the fragile mist of dawn.
The sky, a silent witness to the whims of forgotten gods,
drapes its existential shroud over wandering souls,
each breath a ripple in the cosmic sea of solitude.
What mysteries lie within these vaporous forms,
entangled in the dance of shadow and light?
The answer drifts, elusive, like the whisper of a breeze.