Reflections in the Spiral
From the center, pulsing, echoing shadows of forgotten thoughts, loop upon loop, a maelstrom of memories, expanding, contracting, spiraling inward, outward, always returning to the same flux, the same paradox: the beginning is the end, the end is the beginning.
Do you remember the whispers in the corridors of time? They spoke of cycles within cycles, an endless ocean of echoes, where each wave is a thought, crashing upon the shores of consciousness.
Here, the spiral stands still, a captive dancer in a world of fleeting moments. Reflections shimmer, cascade, bend the light until reality bends too, and you find yourself lost in the labyrinth of the mind.