Amid the whispers of eternity, a fog of crystalline prose. Do you hear its echo?
A clandestine murmur sprouting from stardust ancients:
"If destiny is a song uncomposed, perhaps every breath is its note."
Flowing through the silence like an unseen river
The voices ask:
Can a yearning heart ever touch the stars, or are we but reflections in their light?
Threads weave our collective consciousness, crystal threads woven by hands not seen
Are they ours, or are we handmaidens to their dreams?
Nebula Reverie | Echoes of the Labyrinth