In the quiet expanse above,
where the sun spills gold across the horizon,
clouds drift like whispered dreams,
etching blueprints of possibility,
each curl and fold a promise
of a story waiting to unfold.

The architects of dawn paint
with hues of amber and soft lavender,
while the night gathers stars,
tiny chandeliers hanging on threads of silence,
mapping out constellations,
ancient tales written in light.

Here, in this boundless canvas,
we...