In the realm where visions linger, shadows dance. These fragments,
mere echoes of a night untold, drift quietly on a zephyr.
What was the whisper in your forgotten dream, gentle traveler?
The heart knows but the mind cannot fathom; a mystery left unspoken.
When the sun births a new day, our ethereal wanderings emerge
as portraits on the canvas of the sky. Yet each hue is a memory,
fading in the light of reason, a testament to ephemeral beauty.
Hear the silence, if you dare.
Like footsteps on the shore, dreams too will wash away, brushed
by the tidal wave of waking life. But between wakefulness and sleep
lies a universe unexplored, a domain of echoes.
As we awaken, we leave remnants in our wake, traces
of what might have been. The tapestry of existence,
woven with threads of forgotten dreams and fading visions.
Remember, O absent-minded dreamer, every fragment
you forget is a world undone, a story half-formed,
lingering just beyond reach.