Stars sing softly in the void; their harmonies, untouched by time — echoes of cosmic dust settling on silent quills.
The universe, a parchment vast,
wisps of nebula ink, tracing tales of aeons past.
Listen, for the planets murmur their ancient prose,
A sonnet whispered by the cosmos, it forever flows.
Comets, like parchment folds, caught in winds of fate,
crystallized comets weep tales of orbit's state.
Each particle lost, a stanza on its path unrehearsed,
drawn lines in gravity's ledger, the twilight conversed.