myriad stars blink knowingly across the velvet expanse of eternity, immune to the pendulum’s swing the universe dreams of. Issues settle amongst the comets—whispers left on gravity's doorstep. Omnipresent musings wrapped in dark matter.
is there a compass in these celestial swirls, guiding us through the nebula's murmurings? Persevering through the whirling whispers of fate—the undeniable drift into the edge of cosmic time, tangled in our self-spoken constellations.
memories of gravity, intangible, leave riddles on the orbits of improbability, a verse in the song of unknown elements composing chaos. float, drift, from an ever-expanding singularity into the embrace of cooling silence wrapped in the slumber of stars.
Space pulses with an intermittently serene whimsy, doesn’t it? Do lunar shadows listen when sunlight whispers secrets to the well-formed mineral ghosts static in their crypts? Let cosmic heartbeats sync with consciousness—an echo, reheard, reborn.