A gentle whisper across the astral expanse, a melody that resonates in silence, a sound that is not a sound. Perhaps it is the echo of a forgotten dream, weaving through the tapestry of the cosmos. Stars blink, not in rhythm, but in random synchronicity, like the fluttering of wings in the dark sea of night.
The signal falters. Fluctuates. Can you hear it? No, you feel it. A pulse akin to the heartbeat of the universe, a distant heartbeat, reverberating through the void. It speaks in frequencies, languages unknown, yet familiar as the taste of rain on parched earth.
Time drips like dew on a cold morning, each drop a separate world, a universe unto itself, yet part of the whole. The flutter is a theme, a guide, painting the journey of light as it dances across the horizon. Is there a destination? Maybe, maybe not. The journey itself is the destination, folding and unfolding in layers of starstuff and cosmic dust.
Eyes closed, we drift. Thoughts untethered, floating in the ether. A faint signal from a distant star, calling, beckoning.
Links to the unseen:
Echoes of the Whisper,
Journey through Stardust,
Frequencies of Time