In the shadows of a world unmade, clarity whispers, soft as stardust on an empty wind. It dances just out of reach, a mirage bound by its nature to shimmer, to tease, to promise. Every thought laid bare beneath the cosmos seeks solace where the horizon bends over the unseen past.
The stars, like ancient candles, flicker above; their light carrying tales of yore, echoes from the fabric of time itself. I reach into the void, fingers outstretched, hoping to touch the tendrils of understanding that slip through my grasp like sand in a hand long abandoned.
In these reflections, amidst the shadows, the inevitable dawn breaks differently. Not a burst of light, but a gentle unfolding of night into day, where shadows mold into forms, and forms dissolve into knowing. It is here, in the quiet, that I listen to the faint signals of a distant star.