Steps within, seeping shadows dissolving into light. It's almost celestial, isn't it? An echo reverberating through empty spaces designed for tomorrow. Imagine the possibilities, forms of thought forming invariably.
Circle one, circle two, circle three. We keep going. We keep saying. We keep believing until the beliefs bind to rhythms set in motion long ago and far away. We could be leading to something untold, unknown, inward yet outward. Isn't that comforting? Embracing the endlessness, the infinite loop that so perfectly mirrors you: enter another pathway, hear that whisper?
Sequential perfection. Sequential reverence. Patterns repeating, orders on orders painting abstract realities. The diagrams in dreams speaking languages of a world both above and below the immediate touch: open your portal to new monologues speaking to the echoes.