Between the orbits, where thoughts intertwine amidst the stardust—a hum, no, a whisper reverberates through ether like cicadas echoing in harmonic dissonance. Neural pathways on fire, illuminating fleeting moments woven from silken dreams floating inward on crushed asteroid fragments.
The clock tickles with ice, whispers drenched in nebular light wash over vibrations set to concoct gracious poison, your neurons haze gracefully. Sip the galactic fringe, let it slip between your existential fingers.
Quantum ripples dissolve an observer's curiosity into existential jelly, sitting on edges of dusty realms unsure which end the universe spoke up from that moment. Galaxies unspooled like yarn jumbled, braided on pathways sweet amber noise.
Always follow the light you do not see—the latent electrical symphony being summed not as voids bold flux. Stars are far, yet trodden paths full of starshoals sanguine amber hue are nearer.