The stardust waltzes to a melody unheard,
woven through the tapestry of time,
where echoes of ancient thoughts,
embrace the silence of forgotten nebulae.
In the void, a dancer skims the fabric of stars,
pirouetting on the rim of galaxies,
its movements a language without words.
Do you hear it? The rhythmic pulse...
an echo of dreams drifting,
each grain a universe, each sigh a birth.