A whisper of stars clinks against the night sky, an echo of forgotten lullabies.
Does the moon possess a voice, or does it simply speak through the curtain of silence?
Shapes of nebulous thought drift and scatter, painting the cosmos in hues unseen.
Here lies the boundary of a dream, suspended between reality and an eternal sigh.
Let the astral tide guide your whispers, for constellations harbor stories untold.
Fragmented echoes of the past dance among the cosmic dust.
Glimpse the shadows or follow the beacon.
The celestial wheel turns, a quiet lull in the vast expanse.
Perhaps one day, the universe will hum its melody, a dirge of stars in unison.