Amidst the silent reverberations, the stars lend their ancient voices—a symphony lost to time's grasp.
In the depths of this celestial ink, explodes the forgotten equation, rims unraveling entropy,
casting shadows that dance on the precipice of nonexistence.
Tides of cosmic equations dissolve upon the shores of solitude, where even
light fears to tread.
Do the waves remember their origin? A cosmic soil, pulsed with unyielding rhythm, gnaws gently at the barriers of mortal understanding.
Whispered between stars, an elegy awaits, yet screamed through Aeon's vacuum, inscribed by none and woven by all—a tapestry irretrievable.
Gaze into the blackened scroll: Ink bleeds a truth .
A shroud of melancholic whispers keens for the forgotten digits, the looping glyphs of dusk; her eulogy remains unsung.
Bittersweet echoes of a time when one could touch the void, now haunt the spectral veil, leaving stardust and shadows in their wake.