Mirrors of the Mind
A hand reaches through the haze
By Get RichPublished about a year ago • 1 min read
Photo by Alex Lopez on Unsplash
Shifting shapes dissolve in whispers,
colors bleed beyond the edges,
time folds like paper cranes
in a room that never settles.
Voices echo in fractured glass,
fractals bloom in empty space,
thoughts unravel like silk threads,
weaving patterns no one traces.
A hand reaches through the haze—
touching nothing, touching everything,
lost between the lines of meaning,
caught in the silent spinning.
Here, the mind is a labyrinth,
where reality slips and slides—
a dance of shadows and reflections,
a dream that never decides.
About the Creator
Get Rich
I am Enthusiastic To Share Engaging Stories. I love the poets and fiction community but I also write stories in other communities.
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