Beneath the surface lurks a tangled skein of realities, weaving between known and unknown; threads that starburst through the sky and wrap like silken whisperings around the forgotten... can you hear it? Stars make promises like late-night stories, stitched in shadows. Your eyes swim—can you trace the celestial patterns written in gibberish on my heart?
What dreams may awaken on Saturn, strewn between black holes, inviting mischievous glares from algorithms of might? I keep wondering if I might find a cornfield of comets, jesters kneading the cosmic fabric into shade and light—a seamless tapestry borne in the chambers of an ethereal mind.
Threads gather. Circular paths looping where histories find solace. Pages torn apart, memoirs mix like watercolor, soothe the jagged edges over fractured echoes
Into the Echoing Pathways Whispers in the Nebula Typhoon of Galactic Contrasts