The Continuum of Consciousness

A poem

The featured image was created by the author using Canva and Picsart.

In this labyrinth of thoughts,
I am
a dreamer
lost in the haze
of fractured reflections,
seeking the essence
of shadows that
whisper
through the veil.

The city breathes
in sighs,
its pulse
a phantom rhythm
that echoes
in the caverns
of my mind.
Each street, a riddle
unfolding
in the fog
of my perception.

Neon halos
dance
on puddles,
a liquid tapestry
of light and darkness,
blurring
the edges
of reality.
I wander
through this maze
of mirrors,
each step
a fragment
of forgotten dreams.

Whispers of ghosts
linger
in the alleyways,
their voices
a symphony
of silent screams,
resonating
with the ache
of existence.
I
am a specter
in the stream,
a ripple
in the continuum
of consciousness.

The air is thick
with the scent
of rain and regret,
each droplet
a prism
of untold stories,
falling
through the cracks
of time.
I breathe
in the melancholy,
exhaling
fragments
of forgotten desires.

The stars are
scattered ashes,
a celestial tapestry
of chaos and order,
their light
a beacon
of lost hopes
and cosmic wonder.
I trace
their patterns,
seeking meaning
in the constellation
of my thoughts.

In this surreal dance
of existence,
I am
both the dreamer
and the dream,
a wanderer
in the labyrinth
of my creation,
seeking the echo
of a whisper
that lingers
in the silent symphony
of my soul.