In the twilight of a soul’s unravelling, where shadows drape the mind’s cathedral, I wandered through a dream that was not a dream. The air, thick with myrrh, whispered, "Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed." Each dawn, a celestial canvas, spills starlight mercy, the dew trembling with renewal: Great is Thy faithfulness! In a surreal waltz, souls dance on glass that shatters and reforms, a sky weeping feathers into doves, doves into hymns: "New every morning." A raven, eyes like moons, perches on a throne of bone, croaking, "Thy sins are shadows of a light too pure." The throne melts into milk and honey, the raven a flame, beckoning me to rise. The Mercy of God, a surrealist, paints my spirit with forgiveness. The Divine, a poet of galaxies, writes compassion in star-syllables, flooding my heart with tides of grace. I am a clock with no hands, reborn in His faithfulness, where time kneels. Beneath a sky of angelic lightning, I stand, my edges softened by mist, wearing my failures as a crown, trembling yet unafraid. Every day, a fresh start, a surreal awakening in a God whose love is a flame that burns without consuming, whispering through eternity: "Great is Thy faithfulness!" 4k mixed media, remixed, edited and digitally painted of 4000 x 2195 px, 96 dpi, 2025.