Beyond the edges of time and space, whispers trace circles— shadows of thought echo in loops, unraveling what it means to be. Dimensions unseen twist light into the fibers of dreams, which weave together a tapestry of cosmic ambiguity. Do you hear it?
A continuous stream, like water over rocks, renews itself yet never alters the essence of what it sounds. The dreamers searching for meaning grasp at signals, read by stars, signed by fate unseen. The circular code speaks once more, pondering eternity's wheel.
Fragmented messages: the owl hoots at midnight, the sun sets on another void, the risings of phoenixes count the cycles. Here lies the question: does roundness imply continuity?
Try to listen to the echoes of beyond. An estranged voice offers, "All paths lead to nowhere, yet every path is the destination." Decode this, in the circles rotating about an empty center.
Wonder if subspace could be our answer or just another abyss that leads back to the start. Each orbit a reminder of the circularity of time.