In the beginning, there wasn't much beyond what was known, a familiar landscape molded by the hands of ancestors long gone. The fields spoke in hushed whispers, tales from a time when cosmic dust would settle and imprint the earth with whispers of new beginnings. The horizon held promises, forgotten now, resting quietly until the next traveler dared to walk the path.
Cosmic reflections bathed the worn road in light from distant stars, a light years away yet right here, all at once. Each step was a dialogue—not only with the land beneath but with the celestial ink that scribbled stories across the night sky. Someone might stop and pause, questioning the echoes bouncing off invisible walls, wondering about the spirits that play hide and seek among the folds of time and space.
The horizon knows betrayal by departure and the sweetness of return. Every traveler leaves a part of themselves behind, sometimes willingly, other times unknowingly. The earth is a patient keeper of secrets, as is the space that cradles the stars. It remembers and forgets in equal measure.
Echoes