In the curl of a universe unwinding,
gentle whispers cradle stardust dreams.
Celestial horizons rocking eternally
on the tide of cosmic lullabies.
Nebulas weave in a tapestry of velvets,
armrests of ancient comets drift by
in wandering whispers of forgotten galaxies,
where time itself takes patient breaths.
Astral chairs of epochs past,
gather the orbs in their din of silence;
the warm phosphorescence of stellar hands
cradles even the forlorn echo of light.
Does the nebula embrace like grandmother's hymns,
in that drawings of divine silhouettes?
The rocking incessant, the stars alone sagely witness,
as quarks' fragmented tales wane and wax.