Unraveled threads and whispers of stars
weave pathways in the void,
Patches of light, fragments of yesterday
colliding in a cosmic dance.
Beat. Pause. Echo.

Dust returns to dust, remembers
the lost laughter of galaxies, reality
a mere reflection in the rippling
surface of dream.
What now whispers in the wind?

Click. Riddle. Solve:
"Are you where you meant
to go, or simply drifting
through the luminous
nowhere?"
Taunt of time.

But somewhere over there, not here,
something brews — a storm
or an epiphany?
Wrap it in silk and let it
float, float away...

whispering trails lead to...

304 is the answer, perhaps the number cradling secrets.

chimeric doorways await, waiting, watching.