In the quietude of forgotten stars,
a voice cascades through the empty void,
murmuring secrets spun from the silk of time.
"Do you hear it?" it asks, of no one at all.
The moon nods solemnly,
draped in shrouds of ancient dusk,
and replies with a trembling echo,
a harmony lost to the ages.
Text speaks in shadows,
where pixels dissolve into dreams,
and the syntax of silence unfolds—
a delicate array of cosmic verse.
A trail of luminescent thoughts,
waltzes across a midnight canvas,
as a celestial tide weaves through
the fragile tapestry of existence.