In the whispers of cosmic winds, the words began to form, dancing across the fabric of the universe like falling stars cascading upon a velvet night. Here, in this realm of forgotten tomes, the books lay quiet, their covers a tapestry of light and shadow, ink and stardust.
Each page turned lingeringly, as though reluctant to part from the embrace of its fellow lines, revealing secrets inked by celestial hands—mysteries cradled in the arms of oblivion. The air thickened with the scent of ancient wisdom, mingling with hints of lost galaxies and crafted reveries.
A light breeze, unbidden, swept through the library, stirring the pages of a book bound in nebulae and time, its words unraveling into the ether: "In the spaces between stars, dreams of worlds yet-to-be await." The cosmos sighed, a faint echo of eternity's pulse, as the dust of ages settled upon the lonely words.