As the universe stretches and yawns,
cosmic ashes whisper delicately on the breeze.
Particles propagate, aligning silently,
settling with a lover's touch upon forgotten words.
Cosmic dust encompasses every secret spilled
upon the pages of our Earthlies — a tapestry
woven from the remnants of supernovae and ancient fragments.
Does it know the stories they've held,
or the minds they've burdened with their truths?
In this celestial confetti, we ponder what lies beneath —
the hidden histories buried deep under lunar soils,
sifting through times' forgotten rubble.
We are left with a pondering beyond the conceivable,
answers entombed in stardust equations.
What do the ashes tell at dusk? Echoes of tomorrow,
or whispers of a dying cosmos, singing in miniature?
The particles echo with a harmony unheard,
waiting for ears to cultivate their refrain.
Each arrival of dust in the gentler hours,
a testament written in a language lost to time.
A patina of eternity you seek to touch,
yet never hold.