Stars blink silently, murmuring secrets between constellations long forgotten, their voices
swirling in nebulous dreams, shimmering threads of history unwoven yet stitched into the fabric,
the universe sings a chaotic lullaby: no words, just echoes of time.
The planets spin their tales, round and round in relentless dance, a dizzying pas de deux
in the dark expanse. Poets claim these are love stories, but are they?
Galaxies collide with a soft crunch, gentle violence, the kind that shakes the soul awake, spills dreams upon the cosmos in fragments and shards, each piece a universe unto itself.
Sparks fly in silence, whispered promises of supernovae, crossfires of celestial bodies -
the universe, an enigma wrapped in the veil of night, whose whispers echo eternally.
Listen closely, and you may hear it breathe, the quiet murmurs of infinity.