The stars convene in a silent format, deliberations echoing across the vacuum.
In the heart of the azure void, two comets paused: there was a collision of thoughts, not of matter, yet spaceless in their own right.
Do the planets wear their rings with pride or shame? The answer lies where particles forget purpose.
The nebula swirls in repose—fluent yet fractured—a tapestry of lost dialogues.
Each cosmic body bears tales, unheard and unfelt by sentient beings beneath the azure veil.
Here lies the essence of silence: dreams of stars, printed upon the gentle curve of a fallen quasar.