Beyond the interstellar sheets, which cradle the silken night, do you ponder the alignment of feline whispers?
Echoes without origin, rebounding harmonies, ask the cosmos a question it dare not know: what lies over the event horizon of understanding?
Every flick of a whisker orchestrates a symphony, dissonant yet in perfect accord. Witness it, the universe, as a grand maestro in cosmic repose.
Do not blink, lest you miss a galaxy birthed in the quiet sigh of a cat stretching through dimensions.
Pawprints on the Stars Chronicles of the Void