In the amber glow of unasked questions, time stretches like a forgotten hourglass, its sands frozen in transient thought. What, then, is the essence of the unanswered? The void whispers, unyielding.
If consciousness is a stream, are the stones within it not temporal echoes, shaped by the fluidity of time and contemplation?
InterludeGather around the altar of doubt, where skepticism and belief dance in eternal embrace. Here the question births the cosmos, void of finality, rich in mysteries yet to dawn.
When silence speaks, how then does the void articulate its longing for presence, for the ephemeral touch of existence?
Fleeting ReflectionsObserve closely, and you may find the reflection of the universe in this tiny void, suspended in amber like the spirit of an unsung past.