Once, in the silent folds of the cosmic expanse, the stars convened. They spoke in whispers only audible to the drifting dust, tales of old nebulae that wept light and time.
Midnight echoes of celestial gatherings here and there, where gravity's pull is whispered secrets.
Planets exchanged their coats of rust and reminiscence, suns shared their flickering tales of fervent warmth now turned chill.
A comet, once a swift traveler, left trails of forgotten names and half-formed dreams, drawing maps in the void.
Between the orbits, remnants of tales untold drifted, gathering in the silent shadow of interstellar solitude.
Do these fragments remember? Or do they too, like the lost galaxies, dissolve into the quiet embrace of entropy?
Find the echoes of their laughter in the whispering voids, where time tangles and untangles its web.
In the next light cycle, perhaps they will gather again; perhaps they will not. The universe yawns, and we are but fleeting shadows.