whispers in the void, where stars forget to burn.
Ink bleeds across a canvas of dreams,
tracing the lines of forgotten tunes.
Galaxies drift, unanchored, seeking the lost rhythm inside their cores.
In the silence, a melody trembles,
echoing through the veins of the dark;
a symbiotic dance of whispers and time.
Comets sigh in the backdrop of oblivion,
their tales etched in cosmic dust,
while the harmony of the stars
murmurs its ancient lullaby.