In the nebula's bosom, where stars are born and buried, silence cocooned the cosmic dance.
The whispers of the ancients weave silently, hovering between the stardust veils. They speak of time and no-time, "Will you listen, as the stars do?"
Above, the eldritch sky holds its breath. Each flicker, a heartbeat. Each void, a thought unspoken.
Follow the murmursDream's Echo