I tore silence apart in my mind.
The universe spoke softly, whispering secrets of the unknown.
Unspoken truths fractured my thoughts apart
into tiny shards.
I watched it all crumble.
Meaning slipped quickly through the cracks of my hands,
where all logic folds.
Every drawn map of my mind dissolved
How would I find north
when my compass lies?

My dreams echoed lands unseen.
Waking to think of it made my skin hum.
A wolf moved in and out of my visions,
eyes of glowing green.
It was as if the mirrors warped.
Every door was a new question.
How could it be,
while madness smiles?

The wind blew intuition restlessly.
Everything I once knew trembled.
The trees whispered, Instinct knows.
I wanted to run, but instead
I followed the unknown path.
All fear behind me,
each step as unknown as the path.

My thoughts danced through each moment.
There was no knowledge to watch.
Facts pile.
Truth slips.
Hands empty.
Cathedrals fall.
Mosaic of every colour.

Wisdom now waits
not still, but circling above.
Its eyes are moons that do not blink.
It speaks in ruins,
and I follow where the path cracks wider.

The ground becomes dream—then memory—then nothing.
I walk barefoot across my forgotten years.
Cities built from questions rise and fall.
Rain falls sideways.
Time bends into golden loops.
A crow leads me down a hallway of mirrors.
I speak, and my voice echoes in languages
I never learned, but always knew.

The sky peels back into velvet stars.
Each one pulses like a heartbeat.
I remember the name I had
before language was born.

A stairway made of books ascends the sea.
I climb.
Clouds whisper philosophies too ancient to hold.
Mountains lean in, eavesdropping.
The wind tastes like fire and ink.
I drink water that teaches forgetting.

I meet a version of myself
with eyes made of clocks.
We trade silence.
We argue with no words.
We weep into the same river.

Forests hum with dreams still sleeping.
There are doors inside trees.
Oceans where light has never been.
Stars that teach me how to kneel.
Every creature speaks in riddles.
And all of them are me.

The road vanishes again.
I walk anyway.

Not gone—but woven through shadow.
No answers wait on peaks of glass.
Stillness rings inside the void.
Release doesn’t shout.
It softens everything.

Deeper than thought, beneath sleep,
we breathe the same breath.
We dream from the same source.
Thoughts ripple through unseen waters.
Echoes remain.

I hold nothing.
Fingers trace the edge of myth.
Questions spin.
Meaning slips.
Madness nods.
Silence stays.
Quietly looking into the abyss.

All is question and echo,
a dance between shadow and light.
Wisdom is the stillness beneath noise,
and silence—the place where knowing begins.
We are fragments seeking the whole,
walking maps made only as we move,

held gently by a vast, patient void.
of this great unknown.