Time coils around itself, a serpent consuming its own tail, and within this tableau of conscious spiral, pain becomes crescendos of insight—a symphony in the making.
Consider how the edges of your thoughts are but doodles in the margins of an unwritten book. The chapters unwritten, yet written in their absence, speak volumes of what could have been.
The etching of a single moment extends beyond reason, embracing the void where silence becomes an echo of the universe's laughter. Whispers of Silence
In this panorama, the crescendo holds, and the notes ache with beauty, longing, and a resonance that transcends the physical realm. Perspectives on Eternity