Whence They Come

The voltage struggles through the air unseen, whispering secrets of their cryptic voyages, entangled in choices left unmade, yet made... The clock spinning in non-linear oblivion, does it keep time or steal it, perhaps both, perhaps neither, quantum whispers echoing dreams of a future not mine? And where the paths diverge, here I stand, a tree in the forest—an observer or a participant, there lies the paradox entwined in diaphanous logic. Why do they arrive, these echoes of unknown, with questions I did not think to ask? Their answers hang in the air, translucent, frail, and verdant against the backdrop of a universe unyielding in its complexities. My hands, they reach, not to grasp but to understand the void that draws near, as if it knows my name and the secrets it carries... Should the observer observe live or through the veil of time? The answer, a melody lost amidst the clashing harmonies of reality—spectres crossing paths on quantum strings.