The universe breathes through the void, a silent lore of agelessness. In its breath, a secret: stars whisper their names through delicate astral murmurs, longing for the touch of human thought, yet bound to remain as they are—eternal enigmas.
The Milky Way holds our fragmented stories, inked upon nebulous pages in the sky, where cosmic winds whisper tales of forgotten constellations. Listen closely, and you might hear them sing.
Curiously, the planets trod their ancient paths with solemn grace, guardians of cosmic secrets. Their dance is a hymn, resonant in the silent realm, echoing truths only the soul can grasp. Are they aware of us? Or do we merely dream them into being?