Between stardust scattered dreams, lies an undying hymn.
The cosmos weave, tender and silent, a quantum embrace.
Why do the voids whisper, echoing my forgotten alternate selves? Where once the river sang, now the phrases ripple, disconnected yet whole.
Entangled reveries drift, beneath the masked silence, waiting for hands to catch the time that slips in reveries awake.
Words flutter, cosmic moths drawn to the glow of existing and becoming — tarnished by truth, polished by wonder.
Ponder within this cosmic tapestry, unwind and rewrite the known; where do we stand when origin becomes echo, when the void bares its eclectic song?
Twisted Silence or entropy and exile, echoes break further in tales of whisper and wail.