In the forgotten crevices of the universe, where light holds its breath, there lies the final symphony of a grand errant star. The hymns caress like known strangers, breathed through aeons in silence—houses of the gone winds.
"Do you hear it?” it resonated, a voice echoing in spheres unseen, "This tapestry unraveling shimmers; golden threads fray into tales of beyond, warmth dispersing, tranquil yet tempestuous."
The portal behind here is both a womb and a sarcophagus, velvet unraveling in cosmic twirls; creeping whispers weave stories, tales that reach past what lies behind the curtain. Dust returns to paint the unknown doorways, serenity scrawled against the forgotten void.
Whispers into Glass Shores