Sometimes I think of the spiral galaxies, curling in on themselves like the nautilus, an echo of time unspooling and folding again, a dance of stars, a dance of light. Do they float in the void, dreaming of shores unseen, or do their paths weave tapestries across the infinite, cosmic canvas? Breath of the cosmos, exhaling eternity. Inhale, pause, the universe sighs. Exhale, creation persists.
Can you not find peace in the spaces between? The vacuum responds, silence among the noise. Planets, stars, and particles drift through ages as whispers. Constellations, bound not by chains but by gravity's gentle embrace, etch stories across the night, stories shrouded by the veil of time. Are we not fragments of this chronicle?
Look at the ink, endless ocean, where every drop tells of distant worlds. Inhale the crystalline night, where nautilus wonders traverse the aether. Drawn to the shores of consciousness, a tide of thoughts-coalescing. Musings ripple across infinity: a transformation, an evolution, from shell to star. Journey of the nautilus, beneath universes unseen.
The edges blur, worlds unite. Fingers of light stretching across time, weaving echoes in the cosmic tide. Spirals of eternity swallowing moments, atoms dancing amidst celestial lullabies. Where do they travel, these fleeting halos, oceans of ether cradling silence? In their heart, the core of worlds reborn.
Ascent of Stars