The universe sings, not with harmony but with the dissonance of stars,
A melody both ancient and unborn, echoing in profound silence.
We dance to its rhythm, clumsily elegant, like stars trapped in
a waltz they never chose, but never questioned.
String of Saturn, Piano of Pulsars,
Drums of Dark Matter, all play their part in this
symphony of symbiotic contradictions.
The void is a maestro, conducting with silent ferocity,
And we, the unwitting orchestra, play on through the eons.