unwind. float. orbit.

unwind your mind

time bends here. edges blur. you unwind like light through a prism — slow, spiraling, soft. the flame flickers, the air shifts, and suddenly you’re nowhere in particular. just a body breathing in the stars, letting go of everything that ever asked to be held.

float your body

you’re not sitting anymore. you’re float. a shimmer in the void. a laugh that never lands. the ash curls upward and takes you with it, past thought, past sound, into the velvet hush where even your name forgets itself. everything is easy here. everything just… is.

orbit your soul

round and round, and still you’re free. orbit isn’t a trap — it’s a dance. you move with the pull of your own strange sun, balanced between gravity and grace. the world’s far away now, a dot behind glass. all that matters is this rhythm, this drift, this sacred little circle you call your space