In the slow crawl of the astral currents, a melody weaves itself. It's a tune stitched from the echoes of stardust, a lament sung by the void. The stars hum in harmony, their voices curling like smoke across an endless tapestry.
Fingers of light stretch, connecting one distant sun to another, telling stories not yet written, dreams tucked away in galaxies unseen. The moon watches, a silent guardian, keeping time in a rhythm of heartbeats, its surface scarred with the memories of a forgotten dance.
Do you feel it? The cool caress of the cosmic breeze on the edges of your consciousness. It sings, oh how it sings! Notes drifting like autumn leaves, elusive and haunting. It wraps around you like a shroud, interlacing your thoughts with the celestial choir.
And there, amidst the swirling constellations, a voice calls your name. Not from lips, but from the core of being itself. A lullaby that cradles the stars, a sound so profound that it shifts the very fabric of time and space. Listen carefully, for it is a secret the universe longs to tell.
Echoes of Silence Skylight Fable