Ever sat outside on a chilly night, gazing at the endless tapestry of stars? It’s like the universe has leaned in closer, whispering secrets that float just beyond reach. You could almost hear the sighs of comets as they get swept into their majestic arcs.
And there you are, a lone observer, wrapped in the celestial chorus. Sometimes, I fancy there are galaxies having a good ol’ giggle at our expense—distant and indifferent to our little earthly problems.
The warmth of their invisible glow casts silhouettes on our minds, shaping dreams out of stardust. Don't you think these ancient lights have a way of making everything here feel... what's the word? Ah, transient. Fleeting. Like whispering remnants of some grand cosmic story we're all part of but don’t quite understand.