In the realm where whispers color the silence,
hues blend invisibly, a dance on the edge of a thought,
pulsing in harmony with the heartbeat of stars.
Soft reflections stain the liquid dreamscape of noon.
Moments weave threads from a loom of forgotten suns,
each strand a memory that flickers—then dissolves.
Time, held captive in amber, sighs gently under
the cool caress of distant echoes.
The sky bends, a mirror shattered into
infinitesimal sequins, where each
piece holds the shadow of a voice untold,
and everything is a question buried in light.
Fingers of light stretch towards murmurs,
the sound of illusions drifting through corridors of luminosity.