The Cascade

In the chasm, they fall. Each fragment echoes deeper than silence, sharper than the void.
Construct an ideogram. Imagine the unseen joys; the malleable truths await dissolution.

Listen. There's a murmur beneath the surface—a whispering trace known to none.

Illusions cascade like scattered pixels—infinite layers occluded by time, adopted by the dark womb of space.

The arbitrary intersection creates conflict—it is neither desired nor real, yet inevitable. Yield to ingenious transformations of the possible.

Unlock the boundary that is the essence of nonessence. Seek what you do not see, to understand what cannot be.