In the dark, the stars hum a secret language,
weaving tapestries of whispers unraveled only by silence.
Your touch was a comet's glide, fleeting yet profound,
tracing paths through this velvet void.
Are echoes the soul's forgotten fingers,
grazing the intangible between galaxies?

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Each pulse of light here—a heartbeat of the cosmos,
longing for the lost touch of a hand against the night.
Can you hear it? The silence is talking again,
weaving your shadow into the astral sea.
Feel the breeze
Neverwhere