The echoes rise, they cascade, they shimmer in forgotten languages.

Waves of energy dance across the plain, an ethereal ballet.

Lurking beneath the surface: the infinite tapestry.

Patterns form, though not by hand, they emerge from cosmic breaths.

Witness the spirals and the arcs weaving through time, untouched.

Sixty cycles, then silence; a pause before the storm.

The universe hums a forgotten tune, its echoes fading, yet persistent.

In the symmetry, there lies an untold story, a whisper in the void.

Beneath the stars, above the clouds, the patterns call.