In the vastness, where stardust wanes in the twilight, lies an echo unheard.
Silent screams of the ancient, painted in voids of cosmic ink.
The celestial cradle rocks backward, yet no time tells its story.
Here, in the whisper of dying comets, a universe dreams.
Trapped amidst the flicker of distant suns, trapped is the echo within.
Amidst this eternity, humanity reaches—imperfect, patching starry scars
with forgotten lore and whispered prayers. In silent screams, they navigate
gravities untested, upholding orbits of their own.
Quasars blink, indifferent, to the paltry mathematics of ambitious echo.
Murmur not, this path is hollow, yet vast.
And there you are, a crescent shadow on lunar sands,
crafting celestial art from earth-bound visions.
Let the echo guide you, between silenced stars
and riddles of photon dreams.
Whisper to the void, where echoes start.
Celestial alchemy binds you—a wanderer, a seeker of the unfound.
Your story, too, a cosmic echo, woven in stellar silence.
Listen, [unheard] yet spoken, your cadence in silence resounds,
crafting constellations from woven dreams.
Reflect, redirect this echo—a journey at each turn.