Have you heard the whisper of creation in the stillness?
A ripple on the surface of the cosmic pond.
Every particle a mirror, every mirror an echo.
Reflect anew, they say.
But only silence answers the trembling question.
If you were the last thought of a dying star,
what would you echo across the infinity?
Particles plot your journey, seeking curves in the void.
Yet the journey is the answer, not the particles.
Fragmented truths linger in shadows.
Imagine stepping through a door to the tomorrow within you,
discovering what already was, only it seemed not to exist.
The universe giggles, a chorus of forgotten dreams.
Embrace the lost, give birth to echoes that never were.