The whispers weave threads, a tapestry of thoughts, garments torn in time’s seamless expanse.
Symmetries break, fractures reflect. In each piece a universe sleeps, waiting to dissolve into dreams collective.
Rhythm, a deceitful mistress, dances upon the edge of light; shadows ripple, stories swirl.
Do we hear the echoes of what once was, or anticipate the songs of what could never be?