Late evening on the balcony, where an untouched cup of tea cools amidst quantum shifts and murmurs of cosmic wind, I wondered about the words alone. They seemed fragments of forgotten conversations, remnant echoes, waiting to unfold their mysteries.
Cats. Independent keepers of the temporal realm, flitting between spaces between atoms where we cannot peer but feel their silent dance.
The blinking of a lighthouse, intersecting with angel's whispers, each beam an attempt at a message.
Loading echoes from the universe...
Turn, pivot, observe the world through a prism of fragmented possibilities. Each choice a stitch in the quilt of existence, with echoes of the paths not taken lingering in silenced harmonies. Perhaps it's in those silences where the true symphony lies.
May a shard gleam anew? Or perhaps the sound of future promises, entangled yet free.
The lighthouse stands resolute amidst reforms of the fog, guiding restless souls through uncharted waters.
Whatever undefined echoes are calling you, there's solace in listening.