Log Entry: Celestial Drift, Night 23
Observation 1: The Surface Scar
In the quiet dark, the stars whisper. Broken mirrors in a stolen sea.
Patterns emerge, celestial nomads tracing arcs beyond reach.
In the quiet dark, the stars whisper. Broken mirrors in a stolen sea.
Patterns emerge, celestial nomads tracing arcs beyond reach.
Shadows of forgotten paths, slipping between edges —
wait, was that a shimmer or a memory reformed?
Stars, they said, guide the heart. But this horizon, askew,
remains — a painted dream on the surface's edge.