In the cradle of the silent ether,
A tapestry of stars is sewn.
Fibers of time collide,
In the loom of cosmic breath.
Threads of memory, woven gently,
Between slumber’s embrace and the waking sun.
Each strand, a sigh,
A fleeting echo of forgotten tales.
The wind whispers sweet nothings,
Whistling through astral dreams.
A hum—an ancient melody,
Guiding lost souls back home.
Do the cosmos remember you,
When the dawn breaks upon silence?
Touch the stars and find the truth
Or let the past unknit itself quietly.
Beneath the shadow of asteroids and moons,
Floating like scattered autumn leaves,
The universe weaves, not in haste,
But with the mastery of time itself.
An ode to the unseen stitches,
That bind the ephemeral to eternity.
Remember, it’s not the end,
Just a whispering moment in woven dreams.