Once, in a realm untouched by time's caress, colors sang melodies unseen.
Here the stars were not mere balls of flame, but jewels upon the cosmic cloak,
woven by hands both ancient and ephemeral.
Beneath the surface of distant galaxies,
we find whispers of forgotten tales,
woven into the fabric of existence itself.
What dances in the void? A question posed,
yet answered only by the silence of the cosmos.
Somewhere, in the neon glow of a supernova,
lies the truth: an illusion of patterns.