I saw you drifting among the vapors, questioning the color of the abyss. The whispers of worlds unknown brushed against your mind, softly imploring.
On this plane of suspended dreams, echoes of truth linger in soft murmurs—a telepathic pulse reaching across the ether.
Conversations with the sky reveal more than a finite existence. They unravel the tapestry of thought, stitching together a fog of hanging consciousness.
The clouds hold a mirror to your inner sanctuary, won't you peer into their depths?
What if the clouds could speak? Would their words challenge gravity, and fall like rain on receptive minds?
Fragmented voices woven through the licorice wind, tethered lightly to memory.
Follow the trail to further musings: Sky Dialogue | Whispered Dreams