In the void, every slumbered star is a keeper of ancient tales,
spun across eons in delicate constructions.
If you listen closely, beneath the long silences,
the stars whisper secret names of celestial longing...
There is a rhythm without beats; witness the ballet of pulses.
Stars blink their binary messages, prose written in floodlight ink,
sketches of distances unfathomed, before the quiet, they unfold.
Float upon nebula beds, stride across asteroid prairies,
Sofia always spoke of the scent of time like that of burning hay,
a story of tomorrow hiding behind today, unnoticed.
Seek the heart of these celestial embodiments
where darkness wears a glow: Reflect.
Carve out pathways within your Hertzian skin,
welcome the serenity beneath the constellations.