Drift with me through this quiet void,
where whispers weave silk upon the nebula,
a ballet of stars—untouched, unnamed—buoyed
in the echo of hearts once synchronized,
now a disarray of longing signals
scattered like petals across the cosmos.
"Find her," the signal implores, yet
each oscillator's breath murmurs in singular tongues,
resonating not with logic but with ardor,
across the light years—each pulse, a caress,
a collision of dreams in silent harmony.
Alone we listen, separated by the vast womb of night,
yearning to decipher this love letter etched in wavelengths.
Frequencies flicker, paint forgotten echoes,
the swell of fervent kosmische weaves tones
like a symphony for the star-born,
and just once, it seems to hum your name.
Can you hear it? The breath upon our shared
void, a gentle whisper through time and space,
an eternal promise whispered in the dark.