In the silence of the galaxy, the whispers weave through time.
Ripples on the surface, secrets of eternity.
Echoes, echoes, echoes, repeating, resounding within the void.
Do stars dream in colors, unseen, unheard?
Another night, another dawn, all shadows dance under cosmic rules.

What songs do the ancients sing when the world sleeps?
Mere echoes, yet vivid, vibrant, alive,
Breathing, speaking, reaching beyond realms.
Questions spiral in an endless web
weaving and unwinding, echoing evermore.