In the quiet of the celestial fog, the universe's whispering voices sculpt the reflections.
Each shimmer of the mirror shows not what we see but what we yearn to understand.
Drifting through the infinite, one questions existence amidst silent starry echoes.
Do you see yourself as you are?
Or wrapped in shadows of what could be —
The mist holds stories, distant yet near.
Beneath the sheen of temporal waves, once was a ripple, now an echo in cosmic depth.
Time bends, yet we are unchanged, fold upon fold, mystery within mystery.
Glance anew at the mists:
Mirrors reflecting not the mirror.
Echoes of Truth
Paths Unseen