In the distant hum of consciousness, the mirage beckons—a shimmering distortion against the dark azure of suffering sky. An ephemeral dance wraps its arms around the heart, whispers in curling eddies of dusty luminescent fog. Here lies the dream that once tasted of rain and reverie, smoldering on the threshold of waking thought.
Illusions lost in whispered echoes, canyon winds carry the whispered names of places never seen. Yet here, within, paths form—intertwining in the labyrinth of flickering minds. Do you trace the lines? Touch the fading silhouettes, transient as the clouds over sun-drenched sands. However they come, rain on dust, shadow over memory.
Future slips by, a different tune. flickering path leads onward, away, where juxtapositions emerge—silent symphonies unravel, promise seen only in echoes of forgotten light. Mirage always found again.
And there stands a window, oh ghostly pane of glass between worlds—a stream of instincts beguiling, overwhelming// reflect, forget. The pure cordial deception cradles you in its tender embrace, serenades with stars in backward constellations.