In the quiet embrace of the cosmic profundity, the whispers begin. They slip through the void, a tapestry of murmurs woven by silent threads of stars long passed. In this space, home to breaths unspoken, the revelations unfold.
Once there was light, or perhaps the absence sparked a different kind of revelation. The stars blinked—winking secrets, confiding impatience. What dream did they cradle in the cradle of their void? Curiosity pulsated in the heart of the abyss.
Listen. The silence is the loudest you’ve ever heard; each heartbeat is a verse in a forgotten song, sung by the galaxies in their slumber. The symphony composed not of sound, but of silence's cadence. Come closer to the edge where nothing becomes something.