In the silent brush atop astral feathers, the echoes sing. A whisper-calm tremor meets your marrow, holding a cradle of unspoken stars just beyond grasp. Such shivers, when stitched to the night, tell tales unwritten, in tongues neither heard nor spoken, but felt in the ripples of a forgotten starry hymn.
The universe unwinds like the spiraling thoughts of a cosmic sage. From distant galaxies and moonglow tapestries, threads of empires long asleep weave the fabric of eternal now. Here, truths float like boons upon enveloping mists, half-glimpsed, yet profoundly categorial.
Gateway to Stars