Life's folds are ever tucked within the gradients of gray. Can one see the dance between shadow and shading? Where light merely kisses form. A kaleidoscope turned in darkness, revealing a thought — receding back. Explore further.
Reflect not upon the chrysalis,
for it mirrors only itself.
Yet in contemplating the cocoon,
we unravel truths — euphoric and dull.
Movement within is not without constraint;
and restraint too appears as movement in stasis.
To be void of color is to see Light.
If there were no boundaries, there would exist only experience without context — a myriad sensation scarcely belonging to touch or taste, only lingering upon the threshold of cognition. Seek symmetries.
The poet writes not for words but for spaces between; therein, they rest in tranquility. Pauses are photographs of eternity, framed not by hue but by stillness of ink. Join in transience.