Through the vast corridors of time, where starlight collides with the memory of winds, there echoes a whisper, like cascading water carving its path through ancient stone and clay. Delicate, the ripples of thought, lost in galaxies spiraling beyond sight, beyond reach, yet here they flow, into the quiet valleys of imagined skies.

Did the cosmos hum a lullaby, once? In the depths of cosmic oceans, did the nebulae glean wisdom as they danced? Each star a note, each constellation a harmony drifting through the timeless sky. And I, a mere stream of consciousness, wandering the ethereal landscapes of the mind, tracing the echoes back to the source of silence.

In this reverie, the mountain streams become a metaphor for the soul's journey, winding, forever winding, through terrains unseen, past the borders of reason. Here, in the desert of light, I find solace among the shadows cast by dreams.