The first whisper emerged from the maze, its echoes tracing celestial patterns in the air. A melody, it seemed, brewing a potion of time and eons forgotten.
Repeat, repeat, repeat. The corridors spun tales of yesterday's shadows, tomorrow's light, intertwining harmonies, weaving the fabric of dreams.
Harmony found in the labyrinth's embrace, a dance of reflections. Mirrors whispered secrets of the soul, asking gently, who do you see? Who do you want to be?
As the wanderer stepped deeper, paths foresaw their own endings, the beginning of each thread sewn anew. Nothing was static; everything was in flux.
Again, the whispers: echoes, ripples, reflections — a song with no title, an endless refrain chasing its tail, forever in pursuit of something just out of reach.
Pause, breathe, listen. The void between notes held the universe in equilibrium, a stasis of chaos and order in perfect harmony.