In the crisp hours of twilight, before the universe exhales in lament, a solitary figure bends over a sea of blankness—pages whispering untold stories, yearning for the ink's touch.
Words spill like stars across the sky, a gravitational ballet orchestrated by unseen forces. The midnight scribbler knows not where the ink leads; it is a path of discovery, a manifesto not of declarations, but of musings.
As the heart beats within the silence, the universe listens. Have you heard its reply?
whisper of the cosmos canvas of the mind yesterday's tomorrow