The night held its breath, and in the silence, cracked open the vault of stars.
Beneath the ancient pillars, a conversation ebbed like the tide.
Words weaved with the gravity of truths, less spoken, more understood.
She looked up, tracing constellations with her fingertips.
"Do you see them? The stories etched in light?"
His gaze remained fixed, a quiet acceptance
of realms not meant for mere sight but for seeing
the fabric of the universe unfurled under trusting hands.
The starlit sky, a canvas of persuasion,
where each pinprick shone with memories of far-off whispers.
An unspoken agreement, anchored not in words,
but in the embrace of night and the congregation of stars.