If a single thought were to circle the cosmos, what waves would it leave in its transient wake? Emanations unfurling like whispered secrets.
Consider the unity of intent and entropy; a sphered paradox in constant oscillation. Each ripple reacts with another, compounding reality.
In solitude, the mind constructs its own tides—an internal ocean whose currents shape the shores of understanding.
The primordial whisper—an echo that never vanishes, merely reshapes in echoes of echoes, forgotten only to be reborn in infinitude.
Upon the surface of thought, reflections create new horizons—a horizon that contains within itself both beginning and end.