The cosmos hummed a tune today, one barely heard but profoundly felt. Through the veil of night's tapestry, the melody whispered in fragments—notes unplayed yet resonating within the silence between stars.
Have you ever listened to silence itself? asked the Night.
Once, there were stars, dreams trapped in gravity's embrace, forging symphonies from their eternal dance. Between their fleeting luminance, there thrummed an echo—old as time yet fresh in its yearning.
I am the Silence, born in the schism, never wanting, never wishing an ending or beginning. My voice is the space you ignore, it is the pause between your heartbeats when you stare at the sky.
Caught in the vastness, a voice murmured from the dark:
"Linger here, beneath the empathy of the void, and uncover the distance. Touch the stardust, feel the chords not yet harmonized."
The query echoed, colliding with the symphony of solitude, composing a lore spun from cosmic yarns.
Humans walked beneath me, under stars invisible to their sight, seeking answers in gravity and light while oblivious to the cosmic serenades that cradled them with gentle force.
"Believe in the pull, trust the hush," I sang, a hush deeper than midnight.
Above, new stars flickered timidly, writing notes in the silent ledger of the sky.