Galactical Murmurs

In the quiet patter of evening starfall, do the remnants of forgotten dreams drift. Perhaps they linger in the velvet stretches of quiet towns, sinking into lucid whispers submerged beneath the dim lights of purpose.

The old man talks to himself outside the garage, echoes of stellar tales spoken with lips racing against time's indifferent beat. He recalls stories unwritten, tales left by the cosmic movies playing on sky's vast wall.

Around the rusted table under moonlit gaze, friends unbending through folded time discuss these murmurs, navigating curious breadcrumbs that trail above.

Move forward, throw the mythical lasso again toward the infinite and tug softly until the mass finally breaks free from bound constraints, a speck screaming endeavors untold.

Walk deeper into the stars' grasp when sleep takes its stage; auction the forgotten veracity to silver-colored observers wielded by climbing sonar waves.

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