Caught in the spin of celestial embrace, where galaxies pivot not on gravitational chains but tender kisses. The stars hum a silent sonnet—a melody unbroken by the canvas of existence and time. Who dares to measure the distance between these heartbeats of the void? For each pulsar cycle, another millennium of passion unfolds in cosmic threads.
In paradox, we trust our fates, symbiotic in this dance of proportions undefined. Space stretches like silk across the fingers of a lover, folding and binding. The clocks melt away, forging time anew under the beams of supernova kisses.