Whispers of the Mind

In the silent chambers of the mind, Where shadows dance and secrets wind, There lie the seeds of thoughts untamed, A spark of dreams yet unproclaimed.

Ideas drift on whispers’ breath, Elusive, fragile, born of depth, They flutter like the wings of birds, In a world unbound by chains of words.
From the depths of night they rise, Illumined by the moonlit skies, A flicker here, a glimmer there, Ephemeral, beyond compare.
In moments still, they softly bloom, Dispelling darkness, banishing gloom, They weave a tapestry unseen, A labyrinth of hopes and dreams.
The echoes of a distant past, The silent truths, the questions vast, They shape the contours of the soul, A journey toward a distant goal.
Thoughts, like rivers, ebb and flow, Through valleys deep and peaks of snow, They carve the landscape of the mind, In paths unknown, in trails undefined.

In solitude, their voices sing, A symphony of everything, From chaos’ heart, a melody, The birth of possibility.
So cherish well these fleeting lights, These whispered dreams of silent nights, For in their glow, the world takes flight, And boundless visions come to light.