As the dusk kisses the horizon, thoughts emerge, luminescent like fireflies, dancing upon the gentle pendulum of time.
In every tick, the universe whispers secrets, rhythms synchronized yet free, sequences as old as light itself.
Do dreams count their rotations in the dark? Do visions lean as pendulums, echoing through the heart's crucible?
Here, beneath the expanse of the Ether, a question hangs: What dreams persist beneath lucent skies?