Stand still, listen—what colors bleed unheard when silence speaks in spinning prisms?
Einstein murmurs in patterns etched onto waves, frequency dancing in secret synchrony.
Move closer, let the light undulate.
Beyond the surge of colors, beneath the fabric of existence, lies the pulse—constant, unwavering, a
drifter in space-time. Whisper your question to the void, and listen as the cosmos reverberates.
Where do echoes find their home? Somewhere between thought and dream you were told
but were you listening…?