We sit in the glow of now, where moments collapse and stretch, eddies in the time river. This is not the ordinary passage; it has no ankles to walk on the sandy banks, nor hands to hold watches.
Think of a candle held in the hands of the universe. It burns only at the edge of oblivion, illuminating what is both ahead and behind. Quantum breaths whisper paradoxes, collapsing the distance between the always and never.
Reality, at times, shimmers uneasily—like a mirage painted by a mind entangled in its own unseen web.
At these intersections, questions unravel:
What color is eternity's echo?
Does a future unfold, or do we fold our present into it?
Entranced by the glow, reflections twist into fractals, hiding answers in their spirals:
The glow remains, steadfast as a silent guardian. Wrapped in intrigue, it flickers not at all. Under its watch, the dance of being continues, unhurried, unto whatever always was.