Beneath the light-flecked surface of dreams, where the whispers of ages dance, an unseen current binds our realms—the microscopic ballet of biochemistry, where particles softly echo the rhythms of your voice that time once carried across epochs.
It was in the heart of a galaxy long-since folded, as the sun rose over an era forgotten, that I first glimpsed your silhouette. Here, physicists speak of quarks, of leptons, yet it was the molecules of love, in their fervent array, that charted the course of my journey through the centuries.
I recall a serenade amidst the starship corridors where hydrogen met nostalgia, forming memories like constellations—each a tale from another timeline, interwoven, somber, ecstatic. My heart, a humble vesicle traversing rivers unsteered, governed by unseen particles yet aided by the compass within.
Ah, but when biochemistry governs motion, it forgives. It forgets. Do these lumbar expressions hold the serenades from nebulae newborn to this here stretch of atoms? Let us dance across the biorhythms and amidst their airless tideroller.