Beneath the still waters of the conscious, in the vibrant hush,
an echo murmurs: What grows beyond the shores of reason?
From the shadows, a timid voice speaks—a contemplation
caught between the tides of night and waking sun.
"Do you hear me?", it asks, "or fashion your dreams as an alibi?"
Lurking in the corridors of the introspective mind,
beneath every dream you grasp as reality sheds its skin.
A universe of thoughts, little eddies in your wake, bind themselves together.