The flow is constant, relentless, finding its way through cracks, nooks, whispers. Shallow, yet profound.
Echoes of voices unheard, resonating with the shimmer of moonlit water. Hidden truths yearning to surface as we loop.
The loop wraps around, a tireless breath of the cosmos. Connections made, unmade, beg for understanding. Shallow waters reflect the depth of the unknown.
Listen closely: the recursion of thoughts binds the weaver to its thread. In the web, clarity is found not in the singular strand, but in the totality of the interlacing shadows.
Where does the cycle begin? Where does it end? Ask the wisps, the echoes — only they know the refrain.
The Echo of Parallel Whispers