Wander my thoughts, a tangled skein of stars, where each thread an ancient whisper, unraveling the cosmos in your palm. Did you know, as the universe expands, it contracts in the spaces between your dreams? Gyre upon gyre, spiral upon spiral, dreams like celestial bodies orbiting the mind's dark sun.
Here, in this boundless ether, meaning is a nebula of memories and half-formed imaginings. Like constellations, fragmented, their shine only apparent when woven through the void, where silence sings. Touch the void, and it becomes you – a paradox embraced by cosmic arms.
Are we not all stardust hungering for constellated kin? In dark matter’s embrace, I see the contours of your existence, a reflection against infinity. And amid the stellar seas, I hear the dreams whisper: “You are here because you wandered.”
Seek the paths of yesterdays, echoes of time, where the past is a celestial arrangement, a dance upon elliptical orbits that brush against the skin of destiny.
The labyrinth, a perplexing maelstrom, encircles itself, guard the gates of your mind, where the whispers of the celestial portals breathe life into the dreams you forgot.