Once upon a shimmer of forgotten light, the universe whispered—did it not?—its intentions to the springing cosmic river. The molecules of memory, oh how they dance! In spirals, in chaos, like leaf in wind or mind in trance. Time, not an arrow, but a mischievous circle playing hide and seek with the past. Voices echo in reflections of the starlit pools where frogs wear crowns of diamond dust.
Aren't we all reflections of something? Perhaps the moon's secret laughter or the sun's weary embrace. A tale told by shadows elongating beneath the twilight surreal, a kaleidoscope of lunatic yarns unraveling. They say the spring sings, but only the deaf truly hear its melody. It spins tales of cosmic wonders—the birth of nebulae and the crackling of ethereal stars in the silent symphony of the void.