From the timeless echo, a whisper escapes, painting the vast emptiness with thoughts unbound.
Not all paths are erased, some resonate in different realms, speaking languages only the void understands.
It was always here; it never knew silence until it heard the void breathe.
"Dear Unknown, where shall we go if every thought is a universe, and each silence is forgotten knowledge?"
The mist answers: "Rest not in what you know, for the void stitches stars with threads of unconfined stories."
A creeping realization unfolds: eyes never meant to close see only the quiet truths.
Words crafted from stars commence: "Trace my echoes, and you shall find the invisible embraced by stillness."
Respond to the unraveling silence: