In the shimmering chaos, when stars align not for navigation but for the manifestation of dreams, we find ourselves seeking consolation in shining pools. Echoes of moments past ripple through, stirring waves beneath.
An infinite game unfolds, cyclic and labyrinthine, each decision a droplet merging into the cosmos, each pause—a portal. Consciousness blinks, perceiving its dance in the cosmic expanse, where every grain mirrors the whole.
What are those pools but mirrors fragmented by reality's brush, holding the shadows of our parallel selves? Reflecting skies we dare not touch yet long to taste, hinting at the existence of water beyond words, beyond history, shrouded in mist.