In the silence beyond the stars, a symphony rests. Each note a galaxy, each pause a void.
Clouds believe in gravity's whispers, yet they dance in the illusion of heavier dreams.
What song does the empty chair sing to the solitary violin?
Distant notes of reality hum, vibrating in silent orchestras.
Yet, we remain the audience without seats, the audience that has never clapped. Symphony composed in abstract, in silence profound.