Somewhere beneath the hum of forgotten stars,
whispers of time fold like origami in the void.
Each layer, a lost transmission, echoes through
the corridors of an unseen ether,
vibrating silently, unfurling across galaxies.
Tidal waves of consciousness ripple across
the canvas of dreams, illuminating thoughts
long submerged in the luminance of oblivion.
Here, we dance—choreographers of chance,
weaving the unseen with the threads of possibility.
When did we become these echoes?
Castaways in the sea of light,
drifting between the dimensions of what is,
was, and might never be again.
Listen, and you may hear the dance.