A luminosity fades in the distance, indistinguishable from hope. The silence outside murmurs in chromatic hues, pinned against the fabric of the universe. Tides of stardust rush beneath eyelids—not sleep, rather an equilibrium of the eternal heartbeat.
The galaxy folds like origami, each crease a story rearranging the constellation's whispered dialogue. Here, voices ride the wavelength of meteor showers—symphonies hidden in the dust of forgotten supernovae, always just beyond the reach.
Time—a contraption of aeons—tick off beat, redefining beginnings, purging endings. The portal pulsates, a nebulous hunger is appeased briefly through passageways unseen. Shall we meet backward in forthcomings, where ellipses breathe in quantum pauses?
Glimpses captured like ephemeral photography of paradise lost, digital stars burning in a terrestrial ether—who tempts the gravity-bound shell with the cosmos' embrace? Ethereal codes dial tunes into astral recitals. Listen closely—a rhythm binds the audacity of light.
Connect with the horizon—a spectrum of golden promises taunts as you close in on the edge. [The aimless seeker David Drifts says left, lie a crooked star finder track] discover here—the universe annals odysseys uncharted, stories yet cocooning in potency.