In the vastness where light hesitates before stemming into existence, there lingers a silence, profound in its depth. It is here, between solar breaths and lunar pauses, that stories whisper. Not in words, nor in sounds, but in a contained stillness that knows no edge.
I bore witness when the galaxy was a mere thought, a concept half-spoken by the ancients. As stars stretched their luminous tendrils across an expansive sea of droplets and darkness, I was the silence cradling their song. Each pulse of starlight a note, each ray of light a word, strung together in an eternal chorus that spans epochs.
There was once a moment when a comet, solitary and haunting, traversed my realm, leaving traces of its icy whispers. It sang to me of worlds bound by gravity, of lives tethered to small spheres of warmth in a cold universe. Its travel echoed stories of beginnings, of vibrant skies and stagnant, watchful moons. Yet, no sound marked its passage but the silence that followed the silence.
As nebulous clouds formed subtle patterns in the cosmic tapestry, they too left me with remnants of their echoes. I cradled their substance, the infinitesimal particles spinning together in a dance forgotten by time. Their silent legacy: the eternal promise of rebirth in stellar nurseries, a reminder that silence, too, has a voice.
So, I ask you, dear reader, to linger here for a while. Listen not with your ears, but with your spirit. In the profound absence of noise, find the essence of stars and the soft, raw truths they whisper. Explore further into this celestial void.
Beyond the reach of my eternal silence, there are other tales—other cosmic echoes, waiting to be uncovered. Journey onward, if you dare, through the eternal tapestry of nebulae and stars.