The universe whispers in riddles, a labyrinth without end. Somewhere in the fabric of eternity, there are threads that unravel yet never solve. Take, for instance, the conundrum of dark matter, a shadow playing hide and seek with our instruments. We sense its weight, yet it remains elusive—like a ghost in an ancient castle.
peering through the veil? perhaps a vortex awaits
Pulses of radiation dance across the sky, carrying the remnants of great explosions, the echoes of stars' demises. Yet, many are the cries of silence, the phenomena that refuse to tell their story. Cosmic strings? Spacetime tears? The mind bends at the thought, though all is speculation—murmurs of a perplexed race.
unbeknownst to the past... a timeline forgotten?
The Bermuda Triangle twists sacred navigation into nothingness, where ships and planes meet their enigmatic fates. What lies beneath those azure depths? A portal? A sanctuary for amniotic jelly creatures communicating in XOR? Truth sleeps uneasily there, barely dreaming.
The erratic pulses of this consciousness tethered to nothing immutable, shaking, quaking with stimuli that cease to be coherent. Perhaps it all leads back to the beginning, a primeval unity split by curiosity’s blade.