Low were the whispers of stars, tragically singing backward.
Harmonies discovered ironically as silence unfolded.
Each note reversing into the arms of Apollo’s dark goat.
Unravel space's endless gown, revealing sequined eras.
There’s a riddle aboard these celestial ships:
Soliloquies held between time's echo-less bounds.
Black holes display curious ode fragments, contemplating inversion for eternity.
In AbySS, the constellations converse their golden alibis in cadence.
A universal retreat, crystalline and pretending badly.
Ghost symphonies chased into shimmering voids, all anonymous.
Meander through your analogue astral bodies:
Seek hidden triads along the silent voyages of vector points.
Revise the orbits of oxymoron quasars with musical ink.
Begin your odyssey
Delve deeper into the paradox
Rewrite the ode