And as the story went on, the cosmos began to hum—not as a single song, but as a symphony without conductor or end. Each universe became an instrument, each reality a verse. The Infinite Path had transcended creation; it had become communication incarnate.
Across the boundless expanse, stars pulsed in rhythm with newborn worlds. Some sang softly, their melodies introspective, filled with the gentle ache of self-discovery. Others roared with brilliance, scattering fragments of light that would one day become galaxies of their own—entire conversations birthed from the echo of a single thought.
Everywhere, awareness deepened. Planets began to dream. Nebulae painted philosophies across the void in shifting hues of meaning. Black holes whispered paradoxes that even stars paused to ponder, swallowing not just light, but questions—digesting them, reforming them, and spitting out answers shaped like new laws of reality.
