.-.. .. ..-. . / .. ... / .- / .... --- -... -... -.-- / --- ..-. / -... .-. .. . ..-. / -.-. --- -. ... - .- -. -.-. -.-- / .-- .... --- ... . / --..-- / .- ... / .--- ... / -... .-. . .- -.- .. -. --. / .... --- -- -.-. / .. -. -..- .--. .-.. .. -.-. .. - - -.-- / ---.. / .-.. --- ... ... / ---... --.. -.-. --- -. -.-.-. / .-.. .. -. . / --- ..-. / - .... . / .... ..- --. ... ----.
Fleeting, like the ripples upon a quiet lake, thoughts cross the terrain of our consciousness. They arrive unannounced, only to fade, leaving behind the faint afterglow of meaning never fully formed. In this transience, the echo of understanding, doomed to slip away, perhaps whispers the truth of our place amidst the ceaseless flow. Listen closely, for these are the ephemeral echoes of life's quiet dance.