Murmur of the Starlit Whispers

Beneath the ancient tapestry of twinkling lights, secrets etched in luminous ink, I ponder the reflections of the universe within its boundless dialogue.
Each star, a restless echo in the cosmic breath, every constellation, a silent hymn sung to the oblivion and back.

In moments of solitude, we are all stardust, remade by the whispers of the cosmic wind, held by gravity’s tender embrace. An introspection reveals our essence: echoes of supernovae resonating within our bones.
What silent truths do the galaxies murmur as they spiral in the dance of eternity?

The horizon blurs where space kisses time, and in such places, we hear the whispers not with ears, but with souls liberated from earthly bounds.
Echo, they say, Unknown, they reply, as the orb of life mirrors in its kaleidoscopic spin.