Time, an intangible continuum, often obscured in the layers of earth and forgotten in the whispers of wind. Beneath the surface lies a chronicle not written, but felt through fragments of telepathic whispers. Here, the past is a silent observer, watching as epochs dissolve into dust.
In these hidden depths, the remnants of ages cry out—an unbroken symphony of existence and cessation. To penetrate this silence requires not ears nor eyes but an intrinsic understanding, a connection woven through the void. The buried clocks tick on in secret, their hands unseen yet omnipresent.
From where do these echoes originate? The question lingers unanswered, a mote of dust in the cosmic eye. Each pulse, each whisper, is a testament to the permeability of time—a reminder of our place within its enigmatic embrace. In every buried fragment lies a story untold, waiting for the sensitive mind to decode its silent lament.
Examine the relics of these eras—glimpses through the veil. Seek the murmurs beneath the crust—resonance of ages past. Listen to the telepathic fragments, and perhaps, in your contemplation, you may find the key to this buried time.