In the twilight of consciousness, a choir sings—silent yet resonating across time's expanse. This is not a sound to be heard, but felt, like the sun's embrace on a crisp autumn day. As I pen these reflections, the melodies linger, weaving through the fabric of reality.
Perched on the edge of reason, visions descend like feathers from an unseen hand. They paint the mundane with hues of the extraordinary, shifting perspectives to unveil hidden realms within our own. Are these angelic? Or mere trickery of the mind's eye?
In moments of solitude, the shadows speak in whispers, revealing truths obscured by daylight. These dialogues are not bound by the rules of logic but flow freely, unencumbered by the weight of worldly understanding. To hear them is to understand the dance of perception.