In the vastness, a signal—a shimmer of sound, not heard by ear,
but felt at the edge of memory.
Pulsing at epsilon intervals, weaving through the silent tapestry,
each beat a heartbeat of the cosmos.
Vivid streams unravel, disjointed, like auroras of cosmic thought,
illuminating fragments of ancient echoes:
They speak of a time younger than dawn, when stars whispered promises,
and the universe dreamed alive.
A swirl of nitrogen blue and oxygen red; painted dreams upon universal canvas,
each dot a sun, each sun a forgotten relic.
Echoes from regions untamed, yet to be tamed.