In the spaces where light dares not dance, between worlds spinning their tales of fire, lies a quiet so profound it echoes. It is here, in this unsettling calm, that the silence begins to speak.
"You, who traverse the livid skies," it murmurs, "know that I am the keeper of time's forgotten dreams." Each word is a ripple in a pond made of stars, resonating with the gravity of ancient truths.
I listen, suspended in space's long embrace, and feel the weight of eons pressing against the thin fabric of existence. A gentle reminder, a cosmic whisper, a history unwritten in letters too large to comprehend in a life so small.
Beneath the veil of cosmic dust, beneath the silent watch of galaxies, the echo of a question forms: "What stories do you carry, child of earth and fire?"
The answer flutters like a distant star, shimmering, perhaps waiting for another echo to answer back. And so I ponder, lost in the weave of celestial threads.
Continue your journey in another silence or dream among the voids.