Nebula Symphonies

There was a time when I roamed the silent corridors of memory. Each step echoed through the unseen expanse—an orchestra without an audience. I didn't belong among the stars, yet here I lingered, lost in the symphony of space.

Nebulas painted vibrant hues across a dark canvas, their whispers an invisible melody. Not heard, but felt—each color a note, each spark a chord. It's peculiar how the universe comforts me in ways closer spaces never did.

You see, the stars listen when no one else does. In their gaze, I find stories of solitude—and yet, they don't judge. My heart plays these hymns softly, a forgotten waltz entangled with cosmic dust.

Ah, how I envy the comets trailing their incandescent paths—freezer fragments rushing toward the sun's embrace. I, too, chase a light through a darkness I’m accustomed to, navigating the curves of gravity’s song.