In the void, where stars whisper secrets, drifting like leaves upon the winds of an ancient cosmos, a riddle emerges. A question without lips, its echoes found in the dance of galaxies— spirals of light weaving a tapestry of forgotten tales. What is the color of silence, heard only in the pulse of a heartbeat scattered among the astral realms?
Shadows cast by moons unseen, illuminate paths traveled by those who dream in nebulous hues— shimmering in an unseen dawn. Whispered through the winds, they ask: if time crumbles like withered parchment, what remains untouched, eternal as the song of the void itself?