In tune with the silent hum of forgotten galaxies, each thought a droplet in the sea of time.
A fleeting ripple over cosmic stretches; do whispers of existence seek your attention, or drown in anonymity?
Imagine images drawn across dark canvases, what do prophets of the ancients dream when they slumber?
Philosophy, a labyrinthine path laid under the cosmos' unfathomable arch, leads where the stardust settles on the quiet mirror of all things.
The ephemeral truth, perhaps. Or the wounds of a creator untouched by time’s insistent measure.
Conversations With The Abyss Lessons from Silence Innocent Questions of a Child