The spirals dance, eternal cycles. Starlight refracts, casting whispers across a boundless void. Resonance becomes reality here.
Pattern emerges from static, a tapestry woven by ancient hands. Aeonic fingers brush the cosmic harp — symphony of orbits, chorus of genesis.
Dear Traveler, reflect upon the loops—self-borrowed time, where goodbye emerges as greeting. Remember the echoes reaching back, a loop's friendly embrace.