The clock ticks differently at the edge of the wisdom tree. Yet, who really asked it to stop?
Could time bend around the corners of a wandering mind? Perhaps only a whisper could know.
In another dimension, tea brews stories of galaxies swirling in cups never emptied.
If footsteps echo in a dream, how do they sing in the reality paused by theories unspoken?
What if relativity is just a metaphor for how fleeting thoughts scatter like autumn leaves?
Perhaps, the universe saw itself in a puddle and laughed before hyperbole commenced.
Looking into the cosmos through a window glare, does that horizon bend?
Reflect on black hole conversations.