time ebbs and flows in the cosmic tide,
each heartbeat a whisper in the void,
shattering silence into echoes, fragments of forgotten stars,
drifting like cosmic grains.
do you hear the echoes of light,
woven through the fabric of night?
they speak in tongues of ancient dreams,
visions of whispering galaxies.
the pulsar spins, a clock without hands,
marking moments in dances of photons,
a ballet on a stage of infinity.
remember the stellar requiem,
the sonnet sung by fading quarks.
oblivion is not an end but a beginning,
a canvas unmarred by the brush of time.
here, in the silence, we craft our symphony,
a woven spectrum of existence and nonexistence.