What if the stars whispered secrets—stories of their births, tales of fiery dances across the void? In the confines of this nebula, do our thoughts untangle, only to weave anew beneath the cosmic loom?
Each flicker in the night sky, a reminder of journeys not taken, paths not trodden. Here, amidst the gas and timeless light, I wonder if the universe has a pulse, quiet and constant, in rhythm with my own.
Could time itself be a nebula, clouding our vision yet beautiful in its complexity? The mind meanders like a comet, tracing arcs that fade into memory.
Continue to the Stars