Gentle whispers of the cosmic clock tick backward, unraveling the woven tapestry of now.
Swathes of thought gliding on luminescent waves, flickering across the electric stream that connects everything, everyone. Melodies of the forgotten future vibrate faintly, while echoes of potential pulsate in rhythmic harmony.
Shattered mirrors reflecting past that never was, fragments burning bright with the glow of a thousand suns. Shadows dance upon the liquid light, a surreal ballet of memory and divinity.
Time, the great weaver, peels back the layers of existence, folding universes with supple grace. Would you step into the stream and rewrite whispered destinies?
Observe the cosmic cauldron, bubbling with dreams not dreamt, stories not told, cascading in hues as soft as stardust.