Begins at the edge; the oblique whispers in the corridors of time where logic disunites itself, fragments scattering like autumn leaves lost to a wind's yearning heart—a cosmos sings the somber notes in oscillations.
"Did you feel it? That tremor beneath consciousness’ skin? A ripple across the sea of untold possibilities."
Reach but never grasp; the illusion of proximity dances just out of sight. There are words written in tongues not meant for the world, secrets buried beneath layers of void and echo—a resonance with echoes never spoken.
As the clock ticks offbeat, the stars rearrange themselves into patterns understood only by those who listen with eyes closed. Somewhere, beyond the reach of the known, a door awaits unguarded, unmarked—a promise against the perpetual dusk.
Stay or go; the paths fork into a web of uncertainties, each choice an unwritten song that echoes in the fibers of forgotten realms. They say the universe shudders when choices are made, the continuum stretching and compressing in a cosmic dance.
"Maybe one day, it will be made clear, or perhaps, we shall remain whispers in the wind."
Turn your gaze toward another possibility: a hint of what could have been, if only the stars aligned. Discover more and lose yourself once again.