Surreal Reflections

A river bends through the sleeping earth,

its silvered thread unraveling the dusk.

Above, the sky fractures into fire and ash,

stars igniting like distant flares of memory,

their reflections trembling on the water’s skin.

I step into this cathedral of shadows,

where time tangles in the ivy’s grasp,

each leaf a relic of unsaid prayers.

The wind, restless, carries a hymn—

not loud, but enough to move mountains.

And then, a shift, sharp as sunrise:

the quiet reveals what I could not see.

The ground beneath me breathes,

its pulse steady as the heavens;

I am not above but within it all.

The dream unfolds—unbidden, surreal.

Trees lean in, their limbs forming arches;

roots entwine in a rhythm older than words.

Here, the veil between all things shimmers,

and I glimpse what binds the stars to stone.