"Yet, in my hollowing heart," whispered the silhouette, tracing unseen ravines along the stars-cast sky, "lies a shadow resistant to the sun's persuasion."
"Gravity appeals, but does it grasp?" the voice, tenuous yet firm, asked of the tides, "whose whispers defy both anchor and driftwood."
In horizons unseen by the waking eye, woven into glistening strands between worlds unknown, gleam and dark flash blink diabolically. Rest, only brave light asks a passport.
Venture further into the void, where shadows talk and dreams echo their enigmatic chants.
The remnant of contemplation takes a new form, witnessed at every edge where silence births sound.