In realms undiscovered, reality slips like sand, through fingers of perspective.
Trust the illusion, for it is shaped by the unspoken truths of time's dance.
An echo of the real exists, a shadow cast by light unseen. Listen closely—
the time that guides us bends whispers into a symphony only the wise can decrypt.
Imagine a path constricted by perception, yet widening with understanding. Once encased in a material world, the abstract now breathes, inviting (vortex), querying the essence of its own existence through the void of (mirage).
As the wheel of cosmic time revokes reality's fleeting nature, the abstract persists. Grasp its essence not with clenched fists, but gentle embrace. Kindle the fire of (cognition), a fleeting sidestep from the eternal now.
The truth lies hidden in coded luminance, awaiting those who dare decrypt the symphony.