In the crevices of what is unseen, a tapestry weaves that which is seen.
Cosmic harmony and dissonance, in every silent lapse and whispered word.
The scholar of stars asks not for Truth but shadow.
Their enlightenment, a gentle crescent over the heart of nothing.
Darkness is not absence but profoundest distance woven in threads of definition.
As each shadow dances with light, consider, are not echoes the shadows of sound?
Purity without its twin opposition finds no movement in its still conviction.
Your stories are written in the language of shadows—the weight of echoed times uncounted.
Stargaze upon and within, as beings dream their own iterations beneath a skylessly unknitting quilt.
Draw life between passing hushed doors...
Find simple paths of resonating void.