Through the fabric of silent voids, the stars weave stories untold. An interstellar narrative spirals through the darkness, where light has traveled eons to meet our senses. Each blink of a distant sun is a word, an echo, a fleeting brush of cosmic poetry.
The echoes of celestial spheres murmur beneath the surface of our dreams, a lullaby of ancient galaxies cradling time's eternal dance. Here, amid the endless heavens, we find the verses sung by stardust, our universe's alphabet written in gas and gravity.
Threads of the cosmos lead you elsewhere: