Pulse of Stars

In the quiet corners of the universe, where stardust lingers on the whispers of time, there exists a rhythm. A pulse, akin to the heartbeat of celestial giants, mapping moments in the symphony of existence. It was here that I found myself, standing at the threshold between what was and what could be.

The first time I traveled beyond the confines of the present, it was an accident—a mere miscalculation of celestial coordinates. I stumbled into the year 2247, a vibrant tapestry woven with threads of technology and forgotten histories. Hovering above a bustling market were drones, orchestrating a dance of commerce with unparalleled grace, while beneath, the remnants of the old world peeked through the cracks of the new.

My second journey was more deliberate. I aimed for the 2070s, and I landed in a gathering storm of ideas, where cultures blended like colors on an artist's canvas. Here, I met Lila, an archivist whose passion for the past rivaled that of any historian. We exchanged stories beneath the flickering glow of neon lights, her laughter echoing the cosmic pulse that had brought me there.

As the stars pulsed, I realized that time was not a straight line, but a series of interconnected webs, each strand vibrating with possibilities. And in those vibrations, I found the poetry of the universe—the heartbeat of all creation, measuring the dance of existence with every pulse.