In the boundless vault of whispers, where each syllable pirouettes through the astral void, lies a symphony of lingering echoes, a cosmic dance of murmurs woven into the fabric of the unseen.
The void itself sings, a sonorous cascade of timeless notes, each one a trace of starlight captured in the delicate embrace of night, forever unmoored and wandering the oceanic depth of existence.
Within this celestial tapestry, words bloom like nebulas, intricate and vibrant, casting ghosts of meaning that shimmer and fade, a cosmic dusting upon the heart of emptiness.