Underneath the blanket of stars, the kind where radios turn to stone, I hear fragments of a melody, perhaps it’s the song of... A whisper throughout the cosmos, galaxies in a slow dance, quasars vibrate with colors unseen, hues that whisper like
“Imagine, if you will, a voice from the edges—sing, they say they sing in nebula
Quiet moments awash with the light of ancient fires, drifting notes, like memories lost in the fabric... Shadows of notes hang, like invisible strings tied to. Somewhere, somehow, there’s a rhythm that feels
Each quasar a lighthouse in the sea of darkness, blinking, pulsing perhaps they are simply echoes that...