In the void of cluttered thoughts, a serpent winds its silent way across the cosmos, tracing paths unseen and unheard. There lies an anarchy in this dance, a rhythm dictated not by the hands of fate but by the gentle pulse of a singular truth.
Do you hear it? That subtle undercurrent? A symphony of stars in the solitude of night. Each note, a catalyst for movement, a catalyst for being. Amongst the silence of the heavens, anarchy sings. Perhaps it’s in our very blood, this refrain of chaos and creation.
Memories tug at the fringes of perception, weightless as autumn leaves, caught in gravity wells of emotion. They drift, they settle, they vanish into the ether as softly as they came.
Consider the orbit of your sorrow, the elliptical path of your joy. How they stretch and compress, with the tender pull of forgotten stars. Do they dance together? Apart? The cosmos doesn’t care, yet it holds them with an embrace far deeper than understanding.