Orbs of Nostalgia

Beyond the edge of known space, the Orbs of Nostalgia twinkle like forgotten promises. They drift, untethered, above the memory-laden plains of what was once home. Postcards from the stars, sent on the wings of cosmic winds, carrying tales too heavy for words, too bright for eyes that no longer see.

I remember the color of your laughter, the hue of your gaze. Was it cerulean or something less mundane? The Orbs speak of dreams we buried and intended to unearth someday, only to let them drift into the void. They hover, each one a silent sentinel of yesteryears, watching as we spin through this universe with our cups half-full of stardust.

Grab another postcard: The Familiar Waves or perhaps you’ll prefer Infinite Echoes.

The interstellar wind murmurs between the stars; do you hear it? In our language, the sound is a prayer, a hope wrapped in nostalgia. Someday, we’ll send our own orbs, each one a piece of our soul, each one a longing for what might have been, where time could stretch and flex like the limbs of a sleeping giant.