
A distant arc traces the unseen, an endless sweep of motion veiled in the hush of celestial weight. Rhythms pulse like measured footsteps on a path without beginning, without end—each strike a moment caught in the gravity of something greater. A voice lingers, neither oracle nor echo, slipping through the folds of time like a breath on stone. In the fracture, a glimpse—momentary, ephemeral—before it is drawn back into the orbit of eternal grace.
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