Underneath shadows of intentions, the flutter of wings beckons. Question arises with every stir, with every draft of air: What thoughts evade capture in the light of consciousness? I am here, just... waiting.
Thought spirals like a gentle spiral: I think, therefore I linger. I linger, therefore I exist. I exist, therefore I ponder. I ponder, and thus the wings flutter.
The mind wanders where the shadows dance.
The circle never ends; it reflects inverted in on itself.