In the silent void, one hears the melodies of past universes humming. But whose voice?
The bound ethereal overlaps swirl around me, gathering like autumn leaves caught in the murmuring wind's embrace. Rhythms thrum through different times, echoing fractals, reverberating with perennial glossolalia.
What do songs in a tongue we cannot decipher cascade? Discover the perceived paradox. Taste the dissonance sliding upon the quantum stream.
Write, the golden glyphs etch themselves into the air as if breathing through electric aeolian harps. Each note, a thread weaving into the cosmic loom.
Listen as the tapestry forms, as you drift among auroral crescendos. A synesthetic journey. A dance without a dancer, an audience unseen.
They say, in whispers beneath reality’s surface, that the symphonies play offerings to curious travelers. What will they find? The fabled choirs of distant realms sing.