The night brings whispers of forgotten constellations, flickering ripples across a horizon untouched. In the solitude of silken dreams, a compass’s forgotten needle sways, painting paths more profound than concrete maps. Consider: The binding of stars.
With each oscillation of the stellar tide, the heartbeat of the cosmos draws nearer. Samara clings silently to celestial threads, weaving the stories of waters dispersed by time and silence. An echo resonates.
Retracing the luminous paths of astral wanderers, a constellation of memories weaves together, illuminating the shadows where daylight fears to tread. What cast the first light? Is it us? The distant stardust asks. Follow through: A luminescent journey.