In quiet whispers, the stars sang. Frequencies molded into echoes of past and future. Signals not meant for us but intersecting our nascent dreams.
Hover the darkness, a journey without a start or end. The night conceals a layer of truths, half-spoken, like shadows in the fog.
Take heed of the echo, for it speaks of lands unseen. Beyond the bend of the horizon, truths unfold in spectral hues.
Once, a comet traced a line through the void, an inscription of time whispered among the void. The question remains, unanswered, yet forever present.