Amidst the eternity, the stars align and murmur. Whispers travel on cosmic waves, recounting stories of the night, painting celestial patterns upon the arm of the void. Here lies a reflection—we are wandering stars on the tapestry of endless horizon.
Pause. The ethereal murmuring of silvery shadows beckons. Perhaps the cosmos is filled not only with light but a gentle longing—a refrain that carries us back to forgotten homes, tales suspended in time.
From the cosmic dust, echoes emerge—a dance of celestial bodies weaving narratives we nearly forgot. Does the traveler return to the same shores, or do the shores change upon each return?