The melody reverse. A whisper of what was, intertwining with what might never be, never becoming, always becoming.
In my mind I hear the ticking, ticking, ticking. A symphony of forgotten clocks, reversed notes spilling like silent rain upon the shivering ground.
Did they ever consider the realms beyond them? Loss, gain, backwards in time and the clock seems to laugh. "Forward," it screams. "Backward," it whispers in mocking tones.
A thousand echoes dance in algorithms of reality. Am I awake? But the question isn't relevant here... above... below...
Notes retraced footsteps echoing in chasms unmeasured. Afterimages bright against the dim reality, illusions pulling me inward.
A strange phenomenon occurs when one stands at the edge of certainty, facing the abyss. Look closely and perhaps you might see the smile of fate.
Perhaps, in this luminous darkness, something forgotten remembers.
Irretrievable paths lay ahead or behind or both: see how they twist into impossible shapes, forming the cosmic waltz.
Return, retrace, reread the behavior of stars. When last did you consider them alive? In your dreams, in the constant lull of void phenomena.