In the silence between galaxies, where light dares to pause, the stars hold secrets. Their whispers, stained with mischief, echo through the void.
Ever pondered the shape of eternity? It circles like a cat, around itself, just waiting for the right moment to pounce on possibilities, or lay idle, sunbathing on the cosmic windowsill.
Wouldn't the stars laugh, if only they could? A slow burn of amusement at our fleeting worries, meanwhile their thousand-year-old dreams unfold silently.
Follow the whispered lights to a place where shadows dream of dawn and echo the fading twilight's song.
Galaxies blink, a concealed chuckle as they swirl in their timeless dance. Recall the stars' sarcasm the next time you wish upon one; they might just grant it with ironic delight.
Your path is paved with constellations, scribbled in the margins of infinity, notes in a cosmic diary, chronicling dreams unspoken.