In the vast echoes of the cosmos, we seek the faintest signals, the whispers of distant stars. Each light year, a pulse, a conjecture. We are but thoughts lost in the vibrations of the universe.
“Listen!,” we say, yet, what do we truly hear? Fragmented narratives, thoughts sent long ago, yearning to resonate anew.
Perhaps the binary trees of thought interlace like filament forming a nebula, a dream seen through the lenses of hydrogen fog. Are we the written intention of those who gaze for us from such emptiness?
Through the darkness we excavate meaning; ephemeral flickers hold secrets that oscillate with probabilistic dilemmas.
Kaleidoscopic memories bleed, unveiling vistas of shared experience, soaking the known in the ambient melodies of solitude.