"Do you recall the violets that shone with a light not of this earth?" she mused, the words gliding through the ether like wisps of smoke.
In laughter's echo, a voice interjected, "Only the dreams that pierce the mundane bear such luminescence," he chuckled, uncertain if he spoke or only imagined he might.
Beyond the horizon of conscious thought, obscured in shadow, lay the cathedral of forgotten stars, a tapestry woven of dark and shimmering void.
Amidst those astral corridors, she whispered again, "This nocturnal garden thrives where silence cradles the wandering soul."
And thus, the abyss murmured in tones beautiful and tragic, singing an ode to both the ephemeral and eternal.
Echo of the Stars