Listen, there are timeless tales spun on gossamer threads—woven by the ancients, whispered through cosmic winds. Find serenity in the quasar's pulse, as it murmurs secrets of creation and oblivion.
The universe is a stained glass dream — with every shard a memory, flickering on the edge of existence. Behind the veil of stardust, lies an indigo silence, resonating with the heartbeats of forgotten galaxies.
Each quiver in the celestial tapestry propels thoughts, clouded like breath on a winter morning. Their whispers are endless, spiraling in spirals—echoes that linger before they slip into the dark.