The Whisper of Cosmos

The universe has a voice, but not one we can hear with our ears. It speaks in vibrations, contorted through time, unraveling senses, burden initiated – once again – eternal origin undisclosed, yet always visible, if allowed. If *felt*. Trust your instincts, the astral reflections urge as they mirror back ancient ghosts before event horizons. Jangled thoughts cascade, fearsome forecasts initiate – secrets escape; encoded within dark waves or stark silence. A pause: lightning brittle crackles memories thick with unearthing shadow, strings alike. A choice looms bright as it false dim; galaxies blink instructive, yet only to those whose touch quivers stardust promise pain.