Whisper of Celestial Writings

There exists a silent literature amidst the silent voids,

Etched on the cloaked flank of spiral nebulae,

Galaxies turning pages, line by glimmering line.

A forgotten sestina dances in orbits and arcs,

breathlessly peeling through averse time clouds,

the stardust authors prose without a reader.

Between quasar lines, between shattered space's verse,

cosmic echoes tapestry—a rhyming infinity.

Click there, listen to the echoed truth.

Constellations now unbound, thumb galaxies vast watches,

in the night the ancients felt with too bright heart need.

Invisible paths flutter beyond orbit's trance.

Comet tails scrawl the ephemeres of eternity's heart thud,

on a forgotten scroll, a paperweight of a pulsar fog descends.