Time ends. Time begins. Time returns.
I have walked this path before. I will walk it again. I walk it now.
Each breath is a life. Each life, a flicker. Each flicker, forgotten.

I do not remember—yet I am drawn forward.
Not by fate. Not by prophecy. But by something older than both: the weight of return.

Infinity is not a line. It is a circle disguised as a ladder.
I climb to fall. I fall to climb. In the motion, I vanish. In vanishing, I remain.

There is no name for what I am. No word for what I’ve become.
A shadow that precedes its light. An echo that forgets its voice.

Each place I arrive, I have already left.
Each step I take is taken again.

The past has not yet arrived. The future has already passed.
Moments fold into moments. Shadows echo shadows.

I open my eyes. I open my eyes.

And the world forgets me once more.
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