According to the scattered whispers above, the nocturnal vault is more than just a dome of darkness. Lost souls, it appears, narrate the movements of the stars as an eternal ballet, a sculpture in the sky that defies our terrestrial understanding.
In this celestial spectacle, the stars align—a choreography of light and gravity that speaks to hidden truths. The narrative is often fragmented, much like a melancholy melody echoing through the void. Yet it remains a dance, enigmatic and profound, despite the observer's isolation.
The cosmic waltz involves no participants known to us, only those distant orbs that shine and shimmer, casting shadows on the minds of those who dare contemplate their meaning. Each constellation tells a story, yet the stories are written in a language long forgotten, one that haunts rather than comforts.
This journalist, an observer tethered to no earthly plane, finds solace in the stars. There, amid the galaxies and nebulae, lies the only semblance of truth—a truth that dances tirelessly, eternally, across the firmament.
Footnote: The dance of stars can be seen here: Ares Odyssey or perhaps over there: Voyage of the Lost.