Photon Rift

As the tendrils of the morning light began to touch the horizon, the world unfurled like an origami stain of time. What is real? What is merely the shadow of things yet to be conceived? Thoughts danced like photons through the void, swirling and ricocheting off the walls of existence, a spatial kaleidoscope of fractal dreams: 1. the algorithm whispering truths, 2. reality straining at the seams, 3. the ocean of false promise. In this realm where thoughts become liquid glass, they reflect but do not absorb, mocking the unmanipulatable, the intangible. Remember, remember: a song unsung never dies, it simply multiplies in the corridors of unravelling particles. Through the haze, a rift appears; it is not a door but a window unto a multitude of perspectives. The observer becomes the artifice and yet the artifice dissolves into the observer, an ouroboros of cognition.