Pause and reflect:
the clock ticks not here, but somewhere else—
a fickle friend, a distant memory.
Echo in corridors of time,
searching for the lost moments.

From the quiet arises the catalyst,
unseen catalyst sliding through the ether,
yet so profoundly binding.
Forces at play,
bending the world with whispers of intent.

In the depths of reflective thoughts,
lie the pathways of dreams unraveling themselves,
silently screaming for recognition.
Touch the shadows,
let them tell tales of what once was.

Breathing is the rhythm of existence,
its own tempo in the stillness,
synchronizing with the pull of stars.
Look up at the void, feel its gravity,
there lies the real reflection, the endless introspection.