In Corde Coeli (8)

A glimmer of dreams unfolds here like a dawn without horizon. Sheets of green take root in the depths of intense blue, while red veins throb, like rivers of life within the ocean of possibility. Above, a blaze of gold, purple and magenta rises, as if the sky itself dreamt of consuming itself in colour. Everything intermingles: flames and seaweed, constellations and corals, visions of a nocturnal sky and a secret garden at the bottom of the waters. Nothing is fixed, everything moves, as in the meanderings of a dream that transforms with each breath. Contours dissolve, giving way to pure vibration, a memory of light that recalls the very first morning. Is this a cosmic birth? Is it an inner dream become matter? In this oneiric whirl, who dreams of whom: does the universe dream of us, or we of the universe?