Time, like an endless river, carries whispers of forgotten sentences,
calmly drifting into oblivion's embrace. Ancient voices, subtle yet profound,
speak not of past events, but of eternal moments—untouched by time's hand.
What is the echo of a thought?
An imprint in cosmic sand, a dance of starlit shadows,
resonating through the silent corridors of being.
Here, wisdom is not in finding answers, but in listening to
the silent dialogue between worlds—that which was,
that which is, and that which whispers yet unborn.
Dare to ask,
and you may find that questions are the true ancients,
eternally carving new sounds from stone stars.
Moonlit Epiphany | The Silent Conductor | Fractal Mechanisms