Act 3 Scent 2: Isle of Clouds
Updated: Oct 4
The dreams we chase ~
The flock of shadows flying across the peripheral horizon casts an aboveness seemingly both out of reach and yet obtainable. Shades of aspirations, bravery, and destiny project my awareness with countless searches for fulfillment—whispering moments into gaps of mindfulness where meaningful patterns remain incomprehensible. An airflow of forgotten reels, illuminated through the spools of the subconscious, flicker spontaneously before my crusty, closed eyes.
Does this imagery withstand the test of time, or morph into hallucinations of the past—forever suspended, never completing its intended course? Unguided through the drag of the directionless winds, can I hover above the floating angles to reach a peak unlike anything imagined? Or can intentional thoughts blend with undeveloped visions, patiently taking shape into what is truly possible?
An albatross in the eye of the storm, a delicate path of being and becoming lies before me. Opportunistic bait teased through seasonal anomalies sends me through an odyssean spectacle for the ages—a once-upon-a-time wonderment. A series of tiptoes and leaps through the grooves of the horizon—pausing, skipping, shuffling along the tracks that lead toward an opening of potential.
A sudden uplift propelled by an extended reach of the wings draws me closer to an unseen source of light. I scavenge for these marbles along the way, underestimating the profoundness within each find. Seeds of imaginative thought glide through the passage of time—sometimes undetected, sometimes unnoticed, and sometimes unconnected. While my vision occasionally shifts with a gleaming blindness of distractions meant to deter the path, the karst landscape of unanticipated realization polishes through the sediments to refine purity at its core, beyond the layers of inner conflict between foresight and hindsight.
Unforeseen branches reach across the path as a runway, directing me to land upon these desired thoughts. Sparkles of chartreuse magnetize my curiosity closer to what appears initially as forbidden. A mystique and reverence only the treasured yuzu citrus is capable of evoking—all the senses merged as one.
Even with its wrinkly shell, what’s sighted and discovered is an ageless timepiece, concentrated with wishes and regrets swirling within the same sphere of hope. A crystallized sweetness sparkles, patiently waiting for the first crack in the rind to unleash the beginnings of what may unfold. Championing quietly for me to take the seat upon the throne, a red-carpet grand entrance warms with blossoming anticipation towards citrus royalty.
Penetrating through the sheers of pith, I find myself wandering through this space adorned in resilience and renewal. With each step into this transformative state, a new coat of glaze embellishes the mind with zesty confidence and super ability. What was once scattered among basic ingredients, begins to take form simmering through the consciousness.
At last, a beam of light leaks through the pores of the imagination, spilling a new dawnness sliced from a refreshment of thoughts. A sacred aperture widens as the mind and body become deeply rooted in a belief. My vision, engulfed in a cognitive revelation, becomes decorated with direction and purpose. Such clarity spans across the ethereal skyline, invigorating possibility into capability. An inception of coordinates intersecting at the precise moment where elementary ideas come into fruition and mature. A brand-new launchpad—
…where dreams are made of.
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