In the beginning, there was a silence, a vastness that called. Voices were absent, but ideas floated, like dust in sunbeams, waiting to be caught by the curious mind.
The journey began not with footsteps but with thoughts, ancient and forgotten. Each contemplation like a cosmic ripple, disturbs the fabric of a universe where stars held memories, like scrolls on a celestial shelf.
Many walked the path along the stream, some with eyes to the heavens, others with their heads bowed as if burdened by unseen chains. What they did not see were the emotions embedded in the stars, like fossils encased in a rock, waiting for a moment of revelation.
Each star, a seed of thought; each comet, a spark of inspiration. There were chronicles written in arcs across the night sky, stories left by travelers of time, like fallen leaves in the autumn of existence.
Follow these paths of cosmic contemplation: Whisper of the Light, Echo in the Mist.