Pondering: Curious Whispers

The murmur of stars echoes in the silence of a dream. Have they always known your name?

Eyes unseen, watching, composing the syntax of our humble telepathy—lost dialogues of the void.

A question lingers in the space between answers, like dew on the edge of existential petals.

Memory resorts to whispers in the corridors of consciousness, tracing the forgotten lattice of thought.

Perhaps, one day, dedication will unravel the molecular ascent of your sigh.