In the heart of the ephemeral void,
where time dances like fragmented light,
I found two voices entwined in a silent duet.
They spoke not in words, but in echoes
painted on the fabric of dark matter,
a melody woven through the pulse of galaxies.
Listen closely to the brush of the infinite breeze,
for it carries secrets only the stars comprehend,
whispered truths of the celestial alchemist.
Echoes from the edges of existence,
resonating through the corridors of consciousness,
where dreams become the dust of dying suns.