In the cradle of silence, a whisper lingers.
Constellations rearranging in the canvas of eternity, weaving stories of stars burnt out long before light touched your eyes.
The passage opens, an aperture not of time but of dreams, pulling at the fabric of your thought, like a siren's call from a submerged world.
Galaxies dance in the unfathomable depths, each twirl a verse, each collision a prophecy.