In the vast expanse where stars play hide and seek,
and shadows dream of light they dare not touch,
lies a sandbox of endless possibilities.
Are we the players, or merely grains in an infinite hourglass?
When the cosmic tide rolls back, revealing sand of galaxies,
do the footprints matter, or are we the echoes of dreams?
Lovely thoughts or are they trapped within the lattice of time?
Whisper to the void, and it whispers back; does it listen?
Where waves of probability sulk beneath the arched horizon,
a butterfly beats its wings with a choice to be.
Are we spectators to a divine game, rolling dice in the dark?
Or is the universe itself a player, lost in its own reflection?