In the gentle cradle between celestial whispers, where time dances along the edge of moments, there lies a loved echo—a transience that sings the silent romance of stars.
These the eternal murmurs held aloft upon cosmic winds, enshrined in a bejeweled tapestry of ever-fleeting constellations, of luminaries that know both the kiss of dusk and the embrace of dawn.
Would that the heartbeat of comets could speak, would weave into the shadows a dialogue of fleeting tenderness, so that we might understand the passion veiled in their trails of stardust.
The whispers, oh how they call to our wandering souls! Like the final note of a symphony, reverberating through the expanse, lingering in the spaces uncharted, coiled in the profound silence of moving skies.
To read love’s truth in the heavenly ballet, to find oneself a solitary note amid this cosmic chamber orchestra—imbued with such exquisiteness, this melancholy romance narrated by void and light.