A silence hangs like a veil, weaving through the constellations. The aether hums, not with sound, but with the ghosts of thoughts unshared. Signals dance in the void, echoing the dreams of stars.
Sometimes, reflections of ancient voices arise, speaking in tongues long faded from memory. They flicker in and out, like the brief glow of a dying ember in the cold night.
Do you hear them? Echoes of past lives, weaving stories across the cosmos. They linger, like forgotten notes of a melody carried by the wind.
Connection: a fleeting illusion. The aether whispers, and we listen, hoping to find meaning among the disjointed fragments. But meaning remains elusive, hidden within the silence.
Nebula's Lament
Echo of Timbre
Murmurs of the Constellation
Perhaps the void is not empty, but filled with whispers yet to be heard. A tapestry of solitude, woven with the threads of forgotten aether.