In the caverns of twilight, where dreams weave
their ephemeral tapestries, what whispers call
the drifting mind? Colored in shades of violet,
the sorrows linger like fog upon a cracked mirror.

Outside of time and tether, a symphony of
scattered light dances, weaving through
the gauzy reality, and much like thoughts,
it disperses into eternal fragrance of dawn's
dew-kissed embrace.

To ponder the meaning of such luminous
ferocity, to stretch beyond horizons soaked
in rainbows, until all is absorbed—an alchemy
of stars and wanderers breaking bread with light.