Upon the lands clad in rheum and dew, an infinite path winds, unseen, untrodden, beneath the emerald gaze of gentle zephyrs. Its colors bleed, yet harmonize, into one another like the lost symphony of forgotten charms.
Crossroad exist where sunflowers yawn with amber hue, speak they not, but murmur legend lost in time, asking no answers, eyeing skeptics with hollow, yet profound regard. Enter wherecolors blend.
Amidst the kaleidoscope yonder, finds communion the raven-haired errant. Amid the crooning nostalgia, only silence understands the patterns of these forgotten realms. Shall we recompose the song?
Rivers run not in linearity, but spiral, dancing downward in scintillating rerun, jade reeds sway, console each twist with songs only eels and frogs derive meaning therein. You must witness the lamenting stream.