Whispers of stardust linger long after the scars of daybreak.
Remember the constellations woven between your fingers,
as they mapped the horizon of our childhood dreams.
Space - a vast symphony of silence,
where the echoes of our laughter
fade into the cosmic void,
distant echoes they call.
As we sail through these interstellar tides,
memories constellate around forgotten orbits,
falling like the dust of sepia-toned comets.
Tell me, when did the sky become so heavy?
So burdened by the weight of unsaid words,
silent oracles observing.