Echoes of forgotten melodies drift through the technicolor fog, as kaleidoscopes of sound ripple in fractured dimensions.
Time blurs, a fluid river of chromatic dreams cascading into the void.
Unfurling petals of whispers, curling around the spine, susurrus of the astral planes.
A mind adrift in a sea of iridescent thoughts, weaving tapestries of ether.
Where do the voices lead? Through the corridors of endless reflection, myriad whispers entwine.
Each step a note, each breath a brushstroke on the canvas of night.
In this realm, the color of silence sings louder than the tempest of noise.
Patterns ripple, fractals of the past echo into the now, a dance of light and shadow.
Are you the dream, or the weaver of dreams? The whispers ask, with breath like stars.
Follow the thread, unravel the tapestry, and discover the whispering path.