do you whisper below the frostbitten moon?

interstellar pathways, woven in silk and shadow,

a lone comet sings the echoes of ancient days

fractals growing in cosmic gardens,

where idiosyncratic stars dance to tunes unheard

and solar winds weave the fabric of forgotten dreams.

three suns at dawn—

each casting prisms on the dew of nonexistent reality,

shadows that have no form, yet form everything.

Echoes at Midnight Lost Constellations Forgotten Times