In an era adrift on cosmic currents, the stars breathe without sound. They whisper forgotten melodies of a time before time, their astral voices woven into the very fabric of the universe.
The moon, a solitary conductor, gestures with its luminous baton. Stellar musicians bow their heads in reverence—
Do you hear the sonata of the nebula? Flute notes spiraling through the ether, unheard yet felt within the marrow of existence. Each star, a note; each planet, a bar—a silent symphony unending in its grandeur.
In the void, a question arises: Do the stars mourn or dance in this endless space? A flicker of quasars hints at secrets untold, luminescent ghosts of galaxies past. They propound riddles in the silent darkness.
Constellations Whisper