In the universe's quiet compass, fractions glow
like whispers uncounted, lost in starlit span.
A void encasing subtle eternity—silent,
the echo of dreams never uttered by orbiting tongues.

An expanse beyond measure, where silence divides,
reshaping infinity with moments unsaid.
The celestial manuscript, written in darkness
speaks only to those who converse in stardust

What fraction do you claim, lost wanderer?
Penetrate the unspoken bridges between worlds,
carve understanding from the fabric of absence,
stitch memory among the fading constellations.