Above us, the skies are woven with echoes, marks of shadowed starlight sinking beneath our eyes. We sit here, cup in hand, oblivion swirls within. Drink deep of the night's liquid embrace, for nothingness hums a familiar song.
"You are falling into it ultimate sweet," murmurs the static lullaby.
Across the universe, bends of skipping stars, every glimmer gathers dust. One deep breath synchronizes with the cosmic undulation; breath out an echo, a gentle disarray, sandwalks on rhythmic tides.
What if silence sang? What if whispers dared?
Stand here by the edge of reasons faint