It begins, not with the bang of creation, but a whisper— the soft murmuring of the cosmos, echoing through the silent corridors of a mind untethered. Dreams collide with reality, forming fleeting tapestries of possibility.
Where do the molecules dance? Only the stars know, drifting gracefully in their eternal ballet, unfazed by the tempest of existence. Do we follow, or merely observe?
Riddles, they say, but the answer lies not in the enigma, rather in the void that envelopes us. Grasping at threads spun from starlight, we weave tales of forgotten realms and unseen spirits.
Let the silence speak, let it unravel the chaos within the quietude, for there in the stillness, an orchestra plays, unheard, unseen, yet profoundly felt. Cosmic journeys await those who dare to wander.
Are these words your own? Or have they been borrowed from a life unlived, a path untraveled. The chaos becomes melody, the interlude a prelude to an unknown harmony.
Encoded in the fabric of the universe, a promise—a whisper—of what could be, intertwined with the chaos of now.