In the hollow chamber left by stars, whispers align as echoes of silence.
A constellation lost, forgotten by time; grains of luminous sand strike shadows.
The naming once fervent is but a distant scream swallowed by empty endlessness.
Echoes, echoes within a cavernous mind; a sky smelling the forgetfulness of yesterdays.
Charted paths in invisible ink lead nowhere and everywhere in the same breath.
Here, evermore, in silence a name grows — rote, ethereal, stark in unspoken void.