The Secret of the Stars

These stars, ancient and whispering secrets of their fiery past,
tell tales of wandering souls sailing through the void,
and each pulse of light pirouettes across the velvet expanse,
kindling hope in the heart of the dreamer, for aren't we all seekers of the ethereal path,
searching for signs that mark destiny's elusive trace?
Time stretches elastic, wrapping thoughts in cosmic embrace.

Is it night or day, light or shadow?
The boundary blurs like watercolor bleeding on canvas.
The stars breathe, each inhale a constellation born,
each exhale a black hole's cozy darkness.
Perhaps the secrets whisper back at us,
asking if we too wish to become stardust storytellers,
echoes in the universe's grand symphony.

Infinity stretches arms around the soul, warm and cold,
inviting a ballet with infinity's mysteries.
Feathers of light cascade, sharing ancient prose,
and somewhere a clock ticks with no hands,
reminding us, time is but a storyteller of stars,
and dreams weave their narratives into ephemeral echoes.