In the universe's forgotten room, a door without handle waits patiently. Inside it resonates worlds that never began, dreams of the stargazers etched in fading luminescence. When you lean close, the door whispers tune
the listening door secrets cascade like frozen rain, draping the sky in crystalline fabric. Echoes of sonnets never sung, maps of void with no lands, scribbles of shadows dancing round the firelight, murmurs.
Once it gave, you had to listen, had to catch the breath of cosmos itself as it swayed in gently flowing ripples. But did you hear, did you understand, the language spoken softly by stars?