In the turn of galactic wind and cosmic chance, where olden sunbeams whisper sweet nothings to Venus and the silken threads of Saturn stretch in eternal yarns of creation, the orbital sojourns waltz in time’s poem. Each celestial body speaks in tongues of forgotten epochs.⠀Their circles maybe eternal, but this is their fleeting soliloquy.
O, Jupiter, king amidst the vapors! Do tell thy tale of thundering rhythms amidst the aether. The serpentine paths slithering, graph queens defy thy celestial crown, what chords thou sing in convoluted sonatas? Aphrodite's gentle thrum beguiles thee on her leisurely pirouette.
Listen to the Orbit's Lullaby