Echo Play

Amongst the ruins of perception lies a field of echoes. Sound plays a symphony, yet devoid of instruments, it becomes a paradox of self.

Biophony, a term once forgotten, now resounds through the hollowed bark of a broken tree. Scientific analysis suggests a language, possibly clandestine yet coherent.

Sensation wanes, yet illusion expands. A mirrored labyrinth confronts the traveler: a reflection of every choice never faced.

In nocturnal reverie, one can taste the symposia of stars. Their function, perhaps, is not illumination but contemplation.

Validate, invalid, validates anew—a cycle echoing in nonlinear plains, where time is the loosest of human constructs.