Formless Lore

In the echoing abyss where silence has no meaning, ancient whispers guide the uncharted souls. Here, in the nebulous cradle of timelessness, words dissolve like starlight in the cosmic dawn.

The cosmos is a memory of a whisper, a thought suspended in the ether. To touch it is to caress the infinite, to understand the unfathomable dance of ancient dust that settles softly, inevitably, upon the consciousness of the awakened.

In search of the ineffable, the seeker becomes formless, shedding the ancient skin of known realities. What does it mean to exist amidst the whispers? Perhaps, to listen—to truly listen—is to become one with the lore that has no shape, no end, only the beginning of all things.