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“The Universe said, ‘Let me show
your soul something beautiful.”
― Aberjhani, Elemental: The Power of Illuminated Love

“Breath is the bridge that connects us with the mysteries of the universe and universal consciousness.”
― Debasish Mridha

“There will come a time when people will realize the greatest mysteries of the universe: will a human then meet anything other than himself?”
― Eraldo Banovac

“Mind is the second sky on earth, full of mysteries!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“Nobody knows all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. For your own sake, be wary of anyone who claims they do.”
― Anthon St. Maarten

“Dreams have no doors
nor gravity laws.
Just mysteries for you
to unwrap.”
― Ellen Palestrant, If You Shut Your Eyes, You'll hear Some Cosmic Verse

“As an artist and amateur archaeologist, I explore the mysteries of the past and the possibilities of the future through the lens of art and science, discovering beauty and wonder in the intersection of the two.”
― Raigon Stanley

“There are laws that human beings are unaware of.”
― Ahmed Saadawi, Frankenstein in Baghdad

“The world is full of mysteries; unseen to the naked eye but experienced from within”
― David Sikhosana

“Orion's Question and the Breath of Frost'
.
.

Tonight, the horizon folds into itself, an old envelope sealed with frost. The earth leans ever so slightly, tilting its tired shoulder toward the sun as if apologizing for the distance. Above, Cassiopeia sprawls, half-reclining, her jeweled wrists dripping with the cold light of stars that have died a thousand times since we first gave them names. Her gaze cuts through the dark, dismissive and haunted all at once—what does she know that I do not?

I stood beneath the canopy of brittle air, the breath of a wind too faint to matter pressing against my ear. The stillness of the season lodged itself deep, threading through marrow and thought alike. A single crow flew low across the yard, its wings shearing the quiet, and I realized this silence was not still, not empty. It swelled, pressed, expanded—an ache without center, scattering itself like seeds into the pit of me.

For a moment, I thought I heard it—a hum, soft and glacial, as if the world itself were breathing from a great, aching hollow. I looked up and imagined Orion not as hunter but witness, the burning points of his form arranged into questions I could never answer. When I turned back toward the house, frost had etched a secret on the windowpane, its meaning almost within reach but blurred, as though by a single trembling hand.”
― Monika Ajay Kaul

“Orion's Question and the Breath of Frost'
.
.
Tonight, the horizon folds into itself, an old envelope sealed with frost. The earth leans ever so slightly, tilting its tired shoulder toward the sun as if apologizing for the distance. Above, Cassiopeia sprawls, half-reclining, her jeweled wrists dripping with the cold light of stars that have died a thousand times since we first gave them names. Her gaze cuts through the dark, dismissive and haunted all at once...
What does she know that I do not!?

I stood beneath the canopy of brittle air, the breath of a wind too muffled to matter pressing against my ear. The quietude of the season lodged itself deep, threading through marrow and thought alike. Somewhere distant, the faint call of an owl spilled across the night, shearing the imperturbable, and I realized this lull was not still, not empty. It swelled, pressed, expanded... an ache without center, scattering itself like seeds into the pit of me.

For a moment, I thought I heard it... a hum, soft and glacial, as if the world itself were breathing from a great, aching hollow. I looked up and imagined Orion not as hunter but witness, the burning points of his form arranged into questions I could never answer. When I turned back toward the house, frost had etched a secret on the windowpane, its meaning almost within reach but blurred, as though by a single trembling hand.”
― Monika Ajay Kaul