In the real absence of hue, creatures of muted orchestra gather, raising songs unknown to the unseen frequency range. They harmonize with the echoes, and to fathom their resonance, one must embrace profound silence... hyperreal solitude.
Whispers drift through the cosmos, seeking a tether, yet find none. Spheres alight, ephemeral, within chambers of endless night, moving through time without remorse, for their truth lies within a sentient photon dance.
And thus, the void vibrates—pure, eternal, a harmonic of the universe's sigh. To listen is to be reborn in dreaming tones, awakening within the crystal embrace of what once was.