"Can you feel it?" she whispered, arms outstretched, fingers grazing the fabric of the stars.

"The void?" he replied, his voice a calm ripple in the cosmic sea.
"It's not emptiness. It's a cradle."

The galaxies spun silently, witnesses to the conversation above and beyond time.

She turned, the echo of her gaze propelling him further into the ether. "In this embrace, are we not the architects of silence?"

"Perhaps, but silence has its own symphony," he said, a smile breaking the gravitational tension.
"Listen closely. There’s always a melody hiding in the stillness."

They floated, bound not by chains of reality, but liberated by a dance of words.
Unspoken Chorus | Interstellar Thoughts