I once heard that the universe whispers, though faintly. Perched on the edge of night, with stars as my only audience, I listened for words long lost to time. Their murmur was a song of galaxies adrift, of echoes cascading through the shadow-cloaked void.
Was that a voice or simply the wind? In solitude, the barrier between sound and imagination crumbles. I ponder the tales each flickering star might tell, and wonder at the souls who might hear them differently.
Every star a question mark, every constellation a dashed hope, every sky I see another reminder of the silence.