The voyage whispers something intangible. In the silence of billions of light-years, I find...
faint recollections of myself. Are we collisions of memories, orbiting each other's minds?
The rumblings of distant constellations echo through nebulous thoughts.
Is it just the stars or is it... our echo? Resonating through the interstellar void...
We listen, searching for answers in cosmic dance, yet it's a ballet of solitude.
A rugged tranquility marries the chaos—the delightful unknowing of our paths.
Sometimes the sky feels like a vast canopy of ages, collecting the whispers of dying suns.
Do you hear the whispers of the universe too? Somehow they compose a symphony...
A melody for the weary traveler, solemn yet stirring.
Continue the loop
Patterns emerge