On a velvet night, under a sky sprinkled with stardust

On a velvet night, under a sky sprinkled with stardust, realism, like a broken mirror, fails to reflect the whole truth, it diminishes reality, thins it out, falsifies it, losing its essence, it does not take into account our fundamental truths and deep obsessions: love, death, wonder – all lost in the shadows of reason. Man, presented in a reduced and distant perspective, like a vague figure in a foggy painting, loses his inner brilliance, for truth is not found in the strict outlines of reality, but in our dreams, in our imagination, where magic and mystery find shelter. In a world of gray and monotony, love fades like a candle in the wind, but in our dreams, it burns like an eternal flame, illuminating the darkness, and death, that inevitable end, becomes just a gateway to other realms, where our souls dance freely, like spirits of light, in the vast unknown. Wonder, that spark of magic that opens our eyes to miracles, is lost in the daily routine, in the cold pragmatism of realism, but in our imagination, it blooms like a crystal tree, in every thought, in every dream, showing us the way to infinity. Truth, that diamond hidden in the depths of our being, reveals itself only in moments of dreaming, when we let reality dissolve, and we lose ourselves in fantasies, in untold stories, in worlds of magic and beauty, where every moment is a miracle, and every breath, a symphony of life. In the endless flow of consciousness, my thoughts float like golden clouds, seeking hidden meanings, eternal truths, in the vastness of imagination, and I know that only there, in those distant realms, can I find the human essence, for only in our dreams, in our imagination, does truth come to life, and we, like poets of our own existence, can discover that we are more than mere shadows in the world of reality, we are dreams of light, lost in the eternal night, and only in those dreams, can we find our true brilliance.