The box contains multitudes: nested dreams in spirals.

Segregated realities peer inward, summoning the stare,

of starlings flickered on a quantum edge, singular and collective.

Who sees, unseen, the spinning top, within the vacuum's breath?

Look closely: a forward procession. A flutter backward.

Go deeper: Where does the light hide when the stars cease to exist?

Together they dance, apart they're timeless: hear the memory.
Voices from the void in silent cry.
Disclosure in a pixel's protest.
Forward or backward, why choose? Here there lies another box to open.