A specter shrouded in lavender, she dances amidst the evening's dew. Star-soaked whispers of ivy twine with the heartstrings of dreams, and where do they lead? To infinitesimal echoes pulsing against the edges of consciousness, like shadowy petals falling upon rivers of unyielding time.
Enraptured by marigold breezes, my thoughts wander like errant shadows, tracing the patterns of elders painted through tapestry stitched with uncertainty, a longing lollipop easter egg broken open to a galaxy sustained solely by reverie.
Do we not all gather at the frontier of chaotic tranquility? Fingers slipping between realities, searching for answer-shaped umbrellas, peppering our existence with granules of imagined futures cascading down the slipstream of nescience?