Floating amidst the infinite expanse, I ponder.
Stars echo silent sonnets in their flickering dance,
Each pulse a heartbeat of an untold tale,
Scrawled on the fabric of the cosmos itself.
Do galaxies dream, as they spiral in their ancient waltz?
I ask the void, hoping for whispered answers.
Silence speaks in the language of light,
A radiant glow echoing the stories etched in eternity.
Here, where time finds no purchase,
I trace the constellations with fingertips made of thought.
They guide me through this reverie,
Through passages of stardust and memory.
I remember the dawn of creation,
How it painted the skies with promises unbroken.
Each nebula a reminder of what was,
And the glow of a distant quasar, the glow of what might be.