The echoes of starlight melted quietly against the canvas of the cosmos, as if time itself had stopped breathing. A whisper cascaded from a silver nebula, murmuring secrets of timeless jazz—notes played not on earth, but in the quietude of neutron cradles, where gravity bowed low in reverence.

Stars floated in rhythmic constellations, each pulsing softly with a violet hue, thumping like the bask of a cosmic heart. From their light, a song emerged—not of melody, but of silence intertwined with the ebbing flows of starlit veils.

Somewhere in the distance, the echoes of forgotten saxophones drifted through the vacuum. They wrapped around the observer like an embrace from the universe itself. The melodies danced with darkness, creating a tapestry of sound and silence, woven with the threads of the invisible.

A realization: this was not merely an astronomical phenomenon, but a serenade for the souls lost between realms—the ghosts and travelers collecting harmonies from the unnoticed quarters of space. Can one hear the neutron swing, they pondered?

It was, perhaps, a riddle locked within the folds of a cosmic score, half-written and waiting for a touch to flesh its meaning. And so, the stars continued their avenue, casting light like breadcrumbs along a path of neurons and notes, a quiet witness to the symphony of the galaxies.