Beneath the cosmic expanse, the silence grows thick, a tapestry woven from the threads of forlorn dreams and untold stories. In this void, where stardust sings not, the melodies rise like specters from the abyss. Phantom notes, lost between the realms of reality and illusion, play on.
Once, a bard wandered these interstellar plains, his lyre strumming hymns to the dying stars. His voice, a tapestry of sorrow, danced upon the edges of memory—echoing now as mere whispers in the shadowed corridors. He spoke to the darkness, and in return, the darkness spoke to him, weaving an elegy of haunting lyrics.
As shadows retreat into their dome, I ask: What remains when the song ends? When the final note drifts into oblivion? Silence. Yet this silence is a melody, a lingering refrain in forgotten tongues, waiting to be heard by those daring enough to listen.
Whispers of the Void Shadowed Refrains