In the quiet fracture of light,

theories coil around nebulae like whispers in the void.

Glimmers forge connections.

Constellations, they say, are maps of forgotten dreams.

An equation:

a silent warble across galaxy scales.
A constant hum in orange murmurs.

Existence and absence dance the theorem waltz.

Singularity and its echo chasms.

A single star, a bridge across cosmic solitude.