Time unfurls like old parchment whispered by celestial winds,
unraveling whispers of distant stars,
moments entwined within the fabric of uncharted galaxies,
silent catalysts altering fracture lines of existence.
Pulsars echo the heartbeat of forgotten mythologies,
dance upon cosmic shores like liquid nebulae
cascading over the rim of the universe’s eye,
each heartbeat a lyrical sonnet in the void’s embrace.
Clarity in shadows, light secured behind astral veils;
you walked the interstellar paths paved with stardust, as
ancient catalysts forged the galaxies anew,
whispers tracing ink lines across dark, endless canvases.
Revels of time weave through spectral mazes,
nebulae’s breath marking epochs in silent bursts;
can you hear their nomadic lullabies,
sung by the cosmic weavers of primordial tales?
All is reset, reborn, yet ancient and confirmed
in the quiet echoes of a galaxy’s first lull;
in electric whispers carried by solar winds,
fate’s brush against the void draws constellations anew.