Beneath this celestial dome, where eternity paints its abstract patina across the infinite canvas, remnants of dreams forgotten lie in wait. Lurking in the penumbra of consciousness, they whisper tales we scarcely dare to recall.
Fathomless and delicate, the aligned stars exhale a cosmic scent—a perfume woven of ancient wails and lullabies sung by spectral audiences. When aligned, yet perturbed, their celestial choir hums a forgotten dirge.