Drift you must across the void, where silence sings its cosmos lullaby. A ray segregates itself, only to unite as constellation.
Each star a reflection, not of light, but of obsidian dewdrops cast upon the eternal lake of dreams. They murmur stories to the wanderer of skies, confessions of their incandescent journeys.
The star is you, always shimmering beneath the waves of consciousness.
In the tapestry of infinity, the loom dances with threads of light and shadow, weaving illusions unseen and mirages felt. Every wanderer finds solace amidst their reflection in the cosmic mirror.
The journey home is painted in hues of ephemeral stardust, where memories crystallize into galaxies that pulse in rhythm with the heartbeat of the universe.