Whispering echoes,
*
through nebulae's embrace,
scattered thoughts like
comet trails upon the velvet dusk.
The night is an unsung poem,
wandering eternally
between light and shadow.
And what of these starlit dialogues,
murmured by celestial tongues?
Are they the lullabies of distant worlds,
the silent songs of
*
starlings lost in time?
below the Milky Way’s embrace,
lies an echo wrapped in layers of grace.
Hear it, feel it, beneath the sigh of moons,
etched in constellations' ancient runes.
In these scattered dreams, like seeds upon cosmic winds, * stories of the universe unfold, their verses quietly bold.