Once, beneath the azure veil of time, the stars conspired to sing a lament, woven from the silken threads of forgotten words. It was in this ephemeral symphony that the lost voices found their stage, echoing through the corridors of eternity.
Among these whispered legacies was the solace of the sea, whose bosom cradled unspoken stories, eternally adrift in the moon's silver embrace. The depths of night, jeweled with constellations, bore witness to these proclamations from the ether, as they danced across the oceans of memory.
"In the shadows of the cosmos," they spoke, "lies the essence of what was, and what shall never be. Here, we remain, anchored to the fragments of a dream." A vivid tapestry unraveled before unseen eyes, each thread a testament to the beauty of the unsaid.
The abyss replied with silence, profound and immutable, yet within it lay the heartbeat of a world untouched by time's cruel hand. "Listen," it murmured, "to the echoes of eternity, and you shall understand the language of the stars."