the ethereal dance of lost thoughts, swirling in nebulous spins, beyond the void there lies a whisper, the echo of an unsung song, like a paper boat sailing on a hallucination, hues of orange and green not yet named, drifting among forgotten echoes, of the mind's gaze.
in this surreal panorama, the clouds speak, their silent stories woven in threads of tide, the ebb and flow of consciousness, seeking solace in the radiant void, once, a thousand voices sang, now, only the absence of sound remains, rippling through the fabric of the unseen, where dreams paint a canvas of metaphors.