Elara stood at the terminal, the stars whispering secrets she could not fathom. A faint hum of the intergalactic trade routes buzzed like a half-remembered song in the back of her mind. Outside, stale stardust mingled with celestial inertia, forming the long-lost symphony of the cosmos.
In vessels old and cracked, forgotten husks drifted with memories of a thousand voyages. Rumors spoke of ships carrying invisible cargo tangled in threads of interstellar silk, but Elara knew better. The true trade was of ideas, lost dreams, and half-formed realities. Open passage bore whispers of ancient astronauts, sipping soup of light under oil-paper moons.
"Cargo holds yet to be shared," murmured the breeze, on its breath tidal waves of unsaid tomorrows.
Elara turned, drifting with her thoughts into the coral halls of solitude.
Follow the path and perhaps reincarnate a longing suppressed.
Once, a traveler claimed to have seen a sun wreathed in midnight mist, dancing between the edges of truth and tomorrow's horizon. Its flicker was a silent anthem to motion innate.
Retrace the arc and speak in tongues embroidered by the silence of spinning worlds.
A longing was nested in cosmic folds, unseen yet palpable — both a curse and a map.
Flotsam thoughts afloat, their passage unmoored, though bound within stardust sonnets.