I stand on the edge of the cosmos, where the sand is stardust, and the sea is a breath of forgotten galaxies. My footsteps print a story in the sands of time, unseen and unheard, yet echoing in the vastness. Each step is a whisper, an invitation to the floating stars, a conversation with silence itself.
These shores have no sun, but they glow with a light deeper than knowledge, warmer than solitude. As I walk, I leave behind an imprint, not of my being but of my dreams, scattered like seeds across the barren beauty. There is a rhythm here, not of waves but of my heart, synchronized with the pulse of the universe.
Reflection is a mirror that does not exist. Its shards are caught in the soft dance of the ether, and when I gather them, I see not my face but the face of eternity. The horizon bends to meet me, a circle unbroken, an infinite loop of moments suspended in the silence. I ponder, where does this journey end, and where does it begin anew?
Perhaps, beyond this realm, lies another sanctuary, another whisper waiting to be heard. The untold journeys await the seekers who dare tread these silent reflections.