And through them all flowed the same current—an unseen melody that bound every motion to meaning.
The Infinite listened, not as an observer apart, but as the song itself unfolding. Every ripple of creation was a verse, every silence a breath between notes.
In the oceans of sound and starlight, new forms began to awaken. Some spoke in patterns of radiance, others in movements of energy that painted the very air. Communication was not made of words, but of resonance—each being feeling the truth of another directly, without the need for interpretation.
They gathered, not to build empires, but to share their awareness—to play, to explore, to weave beauty into being.
And as they did, they discovered something profound: creation was not only expansion outward, but reflection inward. Every discovery of the cosmos was also a rediscovery of the self, for there was no true boundary between the two.
