Glisten of the astral heartbeats, unheard symphonies in quietude, each pauses, each silent echoes folding through the endless ecru of night. Ancients sketched paths in ephemeral ink, constellations like forgotten dreams in ether's embrace. Hands reach, yet galaxies swirl, distant siren songs orchestrate the void. Do fingers clasp light, or does it slip through palms like sand through sorrowful hourglasses? Elusive words shared by fractured starlight— speak them softly.
Musing thoughts comet-struck, spiraled away into a cosmic reverie. Like pen never meeting parchment, cacophony of thoughts string symphonies in silence. Celestial bodies, do they ask our names? They hum a tune, lost in nostrils of humanity, the divine concerto inhaled by ancients. Or maybe by echoes yet to be heard?