Stars whisper secrets in the language of light, as the universe aligns in an echo of forgotten rhythms. The solstice breathes, an ancient pulse where shadows elongate and the world tilts in elliptical embrace, cradling the dawn of cosmic rebirth. Time slips between fingers like sand, each grain a story, each story a lifetime.
Dance, oh ephemeral dance, of celestial bodies beyond understanding. The galaxies twirl silently, spinning tales in the void, while we, mere specks of dust caught in gravity's gentle pull, ponder our place. The cosmic dust settles on words unsaid, forming constellations of meaning in the evening haze.
Wander into the Nebula Hear the Whisper of Time