In a universe where cats play chess with stars, and time folds itself into infinity's pocket, we ask: does harmony sing or scream? Beneath the surface of the cosmic soup, bubbles of dissent dance to an unheard melody. They do not question, for questioning is but a different kind of certainty.
Consider the trees that grow upside-down, where roots reach for the stars and leaves whisper to the earth. Is this rebellion or the pinnacle of enlightenment? The owl knows, but chooses to hoot in riddles.
Woven Thoughts Labyrinthine Paths