Prompt: In the echoing silence,
Where words are left unsaid,
Emotions speak volumes,
In the absence of what's been read.
The quiet can be deafening,
As thoughts come and go,
Memories echo loudly,
In the spaces left below.
In the echoing silence,
The heart begins to hear,
The whispers of the soul,
And all that we hold dear.
The world outside keeps spinning,
As the stillness takes its hold,
And in the echoing silence,
We find ourselves, and grow old.
So let us embrace the quiet,
And listen to the sound,
Of the echoing silence,
As it carries us around.
Prompt: Forgotten hope, lost in the past,
A dream of what could have been,
A future that was never meant to last,
A vision we couldn't win.
Memories fade, as time goes on,
The pain of loss subsides,
But the hope we had is never truly gone,
It lingers, and sometimes hides.
We move forward, with each passing day,
But a piece of us remains behind,
With the hope that somehow, someway,
What we lost, we'll someday find.
Prompt: The past fades away,
memories dim and gray.
The present takes hold,
stories yet to be told.
The future is bright,
with hope as its light.
Let us not forget,
what we have not yet met.
For in our hearts,
the forgotten parts,
lie waiting to be found,
in memories unbound.
So let us remember,
the forgotten ember,
and fan it into flame,
so we may never be the same.
Prompt: The tangled roots run deep and wide,
Beneath the earth, they do reside.
A network of life, both strong and true,
Connecting the old, to the new.
Through the soil, they seek out light,
Growing stronger, with all their might.
Drawing nutrients, from deep below,
And giving life, to all they know.
But sometimes, they can grow too much,
And cause problems, with their touch.
Tangling and knotting, with no end in sight,
Blocking out the sun, and choking the light.
Yet even then, there is still hope,
For these tangled roots, can help us cope.
A reminder of our interconnectedness,
And the beauty of life's intricate vastness.
We can honor, these tangled roots,
For they are the foundation, of all our pursuits.
And with care and patience, we can find,
A way to grow, with them entwined.
Prompt: Amber leaves crunch underfoot,
Apples hang heavy on twisted branches,
Pumpkins glow in the fields,
Cinnamon spice fills the air.
Nature's bounty on full display,
A harvest feast for all to enjoy,
Flavors rich and warm,
Autumn's delights to savor.
Prompt: Winter Wonderland
The snowflakes fall, the ice so pure
A world of wonder, where dreams endure
So take a stroll, in the winter land
And let the winter wonderland, take your hand
Prompt: Rustling Leaves
The trees sway gently, the leaves rustle soft
A world of peace, where nature aloft
So take a walk, among the trees
And let the rustling leaves, bring you ease
Prompt: Leaves rustle in the gentle breeze,
A soothing sound that brings peace,
Nature's symphony in perfect ease,
A melody that never will cease.
The rustling whispers secrets untold,
Of stories that have yet to unfold,
Of a world so pure and bold,
Of mysteries waiting to be behold.
Each leaf dances with such grace,
A rhythm that time cannot erase,
A dance that every season must face,
A beauty that every heart can embrace.
The rustling leaves sing their song,
A lullaby that carries us along,
A reminder that we all belong,
To the earth we call our home.
Prompt: Crystal clear bottle with a Raven and skull inside it. Raven, Carne Griffiths, crescent moon, lightning storm, impasto, paint Splatter, Mucha 8k resolution concept art by Greg Rutkowski dynamic lighting hyperdetailed intricately detailed Splash art trending on Artstation triadic colors Unreal Engine 5 volumetric lighting Alphonse Mucha k Jordan Grimmer orange and teal
Prompt: In shadowed room, I sit and ponder,
A lonely soul with thoughts asunder,
No ray of light to break the gloom,
A heart consumed by endless doom.
In whispered voice, I hear the sound,
Of spirits lost and never found,
Their mournful wails, a haunting tune,
A symphony of endless rue.
In darkness deep, I search for light,
A glimmer of hope to end the night,
But all I find are shades of grey,
And sorrow that will never sway.
In Edgar Allan Poe's style I write,
A tale of sorrow, despair and fright,
Where madness reigns and souls are lost,
And hope, a dream forever tossed.
Prompt: The fisherman stood on the shore,
His weathered face lined with years of toil,
And gazed upon the endless sea,
That stretched out before him, calm and royal.
He had seen it all, the highs and lows,
The storms that raged, the calm that glows,
And yet, he stood there, day after day,
With a heart that yearned to sail away.
For he knew that out there, in the deep,
Lurked the fish that he longed to reap,
A creature of beauty, fierce and free,
A prize that would bring him endless glee.
And so, he set out, alone at last,
With nothing but his will to hold him fast,
And faced the sea, with all its might,
A challenge that he was ready to fight.
The waves crashed hard, the wind did howl,
But the fisherman stood tall and proud,
With a heart that beat with strength and zeal,
And a spirit that would never yield.
And when, at last, he caught his prey,
He knew that he had won the day,
For he had faced the sea and all its might,
And emerged victorious, with a heart alight.
Prompt: beautiful butterfly of bright luminous colors is at the water's edge and standing in the sand, magical, fantasy, illuminated, bright, tender, sunset, Jean-Baptiste Monge style, splash art, surreal, razor-sharp focus, 3D, a masterpiece, dynamic backlight
Prompt: astronaut and alien both tired and walking in a iced planet illustrated in moebius style , master production, super high definition, super detailed, 8K --ar 9:16, (close up), gradient blue sky, fluffy white clouds
Prompt: I had been hungry all the years-
My noon had come, to dine-
I, trembling, drew the table near
And touched the curious wine.
'T was this on tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.
I did not know the ample bread,
'T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's dining-room.
The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,--
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.
Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
