Beneath the quiet, a whispering forge, where metallic thoughts melt in solar embrace. Does the planet know her solitude is a symphony, notes vibrating in the silence of the stars? Echoes dance, silver shadows on the mind's horizon, curving warmly into the void.
And you ask, what is the mercury of the soul? Liquid thoughts, some ponder, others forget. Paradoxes are seeds, planted in the mind's fertile disquiet, yielding reflections like twin mirrors in the moonlight.
Consider the distance, the pull of unseen hands, the orbits of dreams and woken realities. Can you hear the echoes, or are they merely the heartbeats of an unsung truth? Find your echo.
Mercury, the orthogonal dancer, a spiral in misplaced time, a memory crafting shadows. Fragments of the cosmos.