Sing to us, ancient voices, of stories that do not fade.
Of Gilgamesh who sought to escape death, of Icarus who flew too high,
of the tower that reached for heaven and the gate that led to the underworld.
Show how words turn into light, how temples and cities rise again in steel and mist.
Bring us the echo of Dante’s flames, of the Tao that cannot be named,
of the God who spoke: “Let there be light.”
Thus appears Morpheus:
a universe where past and future converge.
Not with brush and pigment, but shaped with the instruments of our time - images built in layers of color, calculation, and light.
Teal, orange, black, and gray form the fabric of new myths,
where ancient symbols are born again in the space between dream and cosmos.
