In a forgotten corner of the universe, there rests the quiet anticipation of beginnings. There is a garden where seeds whisper stories of potential and loss, mingling tales with the morning mist.
A gentle breeze carries echoes, remnants of past lives meeting anew, frayed edges of reality tie stitches upon the fabric of space.
What were the beginnings of stories that were never finished? Dreams of completion unfurl, destined to be overshadowed by sleep's embrace.
The earth vibrates softly, beneath a canopy of stars that pulse with unsung melodies. Each twinkle is a promise, an origin of light born of ancient whispers.
Reflections ripple through the dreamlike ether, moments crystalline growing, whitening until obsidian thoughts envelop...
...and the cycle murmurs on.
Do you remember now? A small voice asks. There were places you’ve never seen, vistas unseen echoing like a forgotten song.
Is now, ever, in the same breath as a pattern hidden from our eyes, woven in the orbits of galaxies?