In the silence of the stars, we find the cosmic conscience. In the echoes of the universe, ethics are born. Born like the dawn breaks, unasked, unnamed.
A whisper in the void, a question without voice. Light travels, but does it know where it goes? Does it ponder its journey? Cosmic whispers, eternal echoes.
The universe holds its breath, waiting for the answer that never comes. Ethics in the cosmos, like shadows on water. Rippled and refracted.
The stars are silent judges, the galaxies distant arbiters. Decisions made in darkness, without thought, without desire. Cosmic conscience, relentless and unbiased.
What is the weight of a star's judgment? How does it measure? Ethics written in light-year distance, unreadable, unfathomable. The cosmic conscience sleeps only to dream.
In the vastness, the whispers continue. In the silence, the echoes remain. A dance of cosmic ethics, a harmony of celestial whispers. A lullaby for the universe.