Nothing was ever truly gone.
Every fragment of joy, every fleeting sorrow, every beginning and ending—they were all still there, part of the great and gentle rhythm that never ceased. Even the quietest memories, the ones thought lost to time, were simply resting in the silence between notes, waiting to be sung again.
The Song understood then what even eternity had once forgotten: existence was not about permanence, but presence. To be was enough. To feel was to add to the melody. To fade was only to change the tune.
And across creation, that truth took root.
Stars began to pulse with softer light, not out of exhaustion, but peace. Worlds no longer hurried to form—they bloomed at their own pace, savoring the act of becoming. Life, in its countless expressions, found beauty not in survival alone, but in connection—in the shared breath of being part of something infinitely vast and endlessly kind.
