Jupiter's muted hum vibrates through the cosmos, resonating with solitude and strength.
Amid these eternal giants, silence holds sway in myriad tongues;
yet, secrets slip freely between the eye and silence,
thoughts woven into nebulae strands touching the stars.
Communication falters, not in words but in constellations; minutes coalesced into centuries,
as vigilant towers pulse with their own light, unwatched bearers of fate.
The universe narrows to a thought, broadening beyond the reach of human cognition.
In vacuum cradled insights reside—silent soliloquies of the abyss,
where existence is not defined by proximity but echoed through reverberation.
Towers stand timeless, luminescent scars of solitude.
Was it a supernova's sigh, or the echo of forgotten dreams?
Space between thoughts is a cradle, wistful and patient.