In the theater of the void, Stars lay silent,
casting shadows beneath the skin of light.
Nova sighed, a comet's tail unfurling,
stitching destinies upon the fabric of
soft dark whispers.
Here lies the reverie,
a stitched tale of pulsar hearts
echoing through the corridors,
whispering an elegy of existence
Dream the stars awake,
before they fade
into whispers of what
could have been.