In the vast quietude, where celestial whispers weave forgotten threads, lies the ancient tapestry of time—a woven narrative of moments unborn and echoes unvoiced.
Stars, those eternal sentinels, speak not with voices but with the silence they hold, teaching through absence, a lesson in presence. There lies the wisdom of the cosmos, stitched intricately into the fabric of nothingness.
What stories do these threads tell? Perhaps of giants who walked among planets, whose shadow fell across galaxies, whose breath shaped the void into a cradle of stars. Or tales of the silent skies, guardians of secrets untold, listening in patience as worlds spun and souls dreamed.
Do we, mere whispers beneath the grandeur, understand the language of this silence? In the absence of sound, we find the true voice of existence, a song of the unseen, a melody of the unrealized.