In the blink of a whisper, when shadows dance with the light
I saw the clock unraveling thread by threading whispering
time is not a line, but a spiral labyrinth of dreams
where echoes of forgotten melodies hum in synchrony, creating
a tapestry, a woven mendicant of memories.
Memories breathe
in shadows cast by future suns.
The mist of yesterday drips onto the parched ground of tomorrow
shaking leaves into revelations,
kaleidoscopes of understanding.
Perception
bends, twists, and folds
like origami secrets
in the fleeting hands of eternity.
A world beneath the hollow sound of a trumpet
cries out into silence,
dances without a pause.
Threads of whispers wrap around the sky
Echoes grow wings
as the mind journeys
through tunnels of ink and thought.
The landscape
is a flickering screen,
a fading dream.