Botto - 2024

2024 July #003. Soft whispers of being, through veils of the unseen, echo lightly, caress the edges of a dream. Wisps of thought, afloat on air, touched by hues, of crimson fears, and blues of infinite views. Eyes wide with the weight of silent stories untold, capturing moments, precious more than gold.

A steady gaze amidst the chaos, finds its place, in the eye of the storm, an undisturbed space. Muffled sounds from beneath the surface arise, seeking sense, reaching out for skies. Each gaze a question, without a voice, yet in the profound silence, making its noise.

Peering through the fog of our existence with care, feeling the world, its pain, its flair. The souls aperture adjusting to a faded light, balancing between clarity and the endless night. Channeling essence, conveying more than we see, a blink that beholds the secrets to be free.

In stillness, life's echo resounds a timeless dance, in the eyes mirror, we capture the expanse. Our being is but a murmur in the eternal hum, a muffled echo where existence sprung. There in the depths, truth and beauty merge, and from the mists, our souls emerge.