In the silence of the celestial void, where echoes dare not tread, a soft glow lingers—a memory of luminescent whispers that once filled the dark expanse. Each star a thought, a flicker of consciousness in the endless night, yearning to be seen, to be understood.
Time, an indifferent tapestry, weaves through the fabric of this space, stitching together moments that shimmer and fade into the abyss. Do you hear the echoes of your own whispers, lost in the cosmic dance? They flutter like moths around the flame of existence, seeking solace in the light of their own illumination.
When you gaze into the starry abyss, what do you see? A reflection of your inner universe, perhaps—the countless musings, the unvoiced reflections, twinkling in the infinite sea. They shine, not for anyone else, but for you, to remind you of the beauty in their solitude.
Drift through this starfield of memories, this quiet constellation of reverie. And remember: every star carries a story, even if that story is simply the echo of its own silence.