What is the pulse beneath your dreams, the frequency spooling into waking moments of sun-dappled reality?
Here, the stranded echoes seek warmth, a kindling of voices coaxed across shadow-laced expanses.
Human with clay-like spirit, remember your tune, that symphony interwoven through every near-forgotten sigh.
Radiate, oscillate, vibrate. The skew drift amid cosmic lore warps with sighless patterns, yet brilliance festers on the edges.
Eyes closed, I grasp for sound—weaving stories of nebular silk stretching across epochs unviewed, histories uncrossed.
Self, conjoined in stellar symphony: in rhythmic pulse, witnessing the vibrational ballet upon whispering sands of time.