In the expanse of boundless night, a whisper, ethereal and soft, calls forth the ancients.
The stars, they murmur secrets lost to time, nebulous dreams intertwined with void.
Is it by the alignment of planets, or the gentle sway of cosmic currents?
Listen, for the waves brush against the shores of galaxies, their lullabies steeped in stardust.
To conjure is to breathe with the universe, synced with its immortal breath.
A common thread woven through the loom of existence—a tapestry borne of light and shadow.