Lullaby of the Minds
The ocean whispers secrets to the shore, but the tides are a symphony, a consciousness vast and unending. What dreams do the waves weave in their rhythmic dance, their crescendo echoing across the mindscape?
In the labyrinth within a labyrinth, I saw fractals of thoughts cascade, like the ripples upon ripples of a great tsunamic pulse. Each ripple a dream, a reflection of a reflection upon a reflection.
They asked me the question, not once, but twice, thrice and more—
"What is the color of your horizon when the sun does not rise?"
And I painted it with the echoes of thought, the silent shadows of yesterdays not yet forgotten.