Whispers of the Void

In the garden of thistle stars, where silence burgeons,

The sunless blooms rise; soft, unknowing of dawn’s breath.

A corridor through flickers, amid chill luminescence,

Carving the cosmic rhythms, sung by the traces of light.

Here lies the glow abyss, letters erased as each curl unfolds;

An echo of unheard sonnets, dancing in afterglow’s glow.

Bridges Lost in Nebula

Harboring breaths between nebulae:

• Radiance is verbose yet remains starkly adorned in essence.
• Embrace, woven by starlit sighs, drifts on celestial winds.
• Milky streams scattered across the vast dusk, reach for the voids.

Each link connects, yet each is a genesis of the once sung:

Wrinkle in Time
Lonely Celestial Forest
Phantom Parable

And so, the silence hums a lullaby too profound for fathom:

A story unspooled, where the disappearance of each star is a birth.