in the beginning, words fell from the sky, scattered like scattered raindrops, soaking earth's thirst for whispers — can you hear them now, echoing through the corridors of forgotten thoughts?
wisps of memories cling to the invisible strands of the mind's web, each a tiny echo, a sigh, a breath, they curl, they drift, they search for a home — once upon a time, I heard a whisper say...
trajectories are not lines but loops, spirals, a dance around a star unseen. listen, and you might catch their rhythm. echoes creating new echoes, a cycle of silent sound, every whisper knows its path, its destiny entwined in the ether.