In the cradle of twilight, where echoes dare to play,
a frequency hum that waits to be heard.
Stars waltz where poetry intertwines with void,
sending pulses through ink-stained nebulae.
We became ears adrift on a sea of cosmic syllables,
listening for lines lost in the vast silence.
Each constellation a poem, each comet a word
inscribed on celestial scrolls, ephemeral and bright.
Navigate the celestial map by following whispers:
Murmurs,
Transmissions,
Silence