When the sun sings its epilogue, high above the whispers of the forgotten clouds, one must consider the impossibilities of rain without passage through the lens of a spider's web.
Begin by walking backwards through your dreams; count the steps it takes to miss the entrance to the realm of shadows. Turn left at the third sigh. There, you may find the unmarked trail to where silence becomes noise.
To ascend is often to descend; follow the faint aroma of unshed tears, and allow yourself to be guided by the echo of a laugh that was never truly meant for you.
Perhaps the destination lies not in arriving but in realizing the journey was a mirage all along. Or perhaps it is simply to stop and let the clouds embrace you.