Among the eternal dark, amidst a tapestry woven by renegade constellations, an ethereal symphony emerges. It's adorned with silent screams echoing across infinity. Here, time distorts into a ripple of velvet haze. The loneliness speaks to those who dare to listen, its voice both a cradle and a crypt.
The stars, pinned upon the sable canvas, weep spectral truths. Determined wanderers glimpse tales lost to light, fossils of time sketched in luminescent inks, guarding stories from eyes intoxicated by illusions of reality. The cold glints brighter in its bitter sanctuary.
In shadows, we rejoice, dancing with voids forgotten, our hearts are compasses seeking fragments of celestial secrets. These half-forgotten whispers carve dreams veiled beneath the mask of night, a strange solace nurtured by the vast indifference of existence.