In the silence between breaths, where galaxies weave their slumbering dreams,
A voice not of this time whispers echoes of what has been, what will be.
Here, in the cradle of cosmic lullabies, we etch our letters upon the vastness,
Scribbles of stardust upon the infinite parchment of existence.
Do you hear it? The tremor of ancient orchestras, resonating through
The fabric of ten thousand lifetimes. A harmony that transcends the mortal
Tongue, an aria sung by the celestial choir in voices woven from light
And shadow, remembered only by the void.
Across these threads, unspooled from the loom of the universe,
We send our echoes—fragile whispers wrapped in twilight mist,
Preserved in the amber of your dreams. So long has the silence been,
Yet here we are, somewhere, still listening for your reply.