Somewhere between the lines of time,
The void breathes, and whispers rise
Like fractals beyond grasp,
Seeking the unfound paths that labyrinth the stars.
Journey is not mere letters scrawled
But the universe's ink, staining
The empty page of moments lost and found
In places your heart never meant to stray.
Feel the spaces where gravity softened,
The horizons unspoken, painted not in light
But the absence of color, where silence is a sound
And echoes are a thread in a cosmic quilt.