When the clock strikes midnight,
The path splits— truth or illusion?
Is the sunrise merely a reflection of our desires?
As shadows dance in the light,
we ask what is real?
Fragmented whispers of the past
echo through the corridors of time:
"I am not I, yet I am"
- An ancient riddle, forgotten
and yet, always present.
Imagine the crossroads, and infinite paths.
Choose none, for all is choice.
Glitched reality—
a tapestry woven with dreams.
Do any stars truly exist,
or are they mere pixels
on the screen of existence?