The horizon where logic surrenders horizons
Clouds of thought converge in spectral drums,
Echoing melodies weave through the folded silk of time.
Like whispers from the silent echoes of past’s forgotten dreams.
Therein lies the eternity of a shadow's footstep,
Remnants of existence merging with whispers of infinity.
Yet here, a question forms—an ever-revolving arc,
carved in the mist of mystique.
What lies beneath the velvet fuzz of thought?
Dance with the wandering atoms, lose them,.
They revel in the dissonant chords of reality's dissolution.
Fragmented harmonies we call existence.
Is the touch of wind a reminder, or merely the breath of unreality?
The canvas remains blank as the universe exhales a sigh.