The fixedness of stars seldom hides the tremors beneath. Echoes of voices untethered drifting through the void. What refrain of cosmic solitude hums beneath your skin? Grains of sand on beaches named yesterday, shifting like dreams fading in the light. A distant lighthouse whose beam never reaches you—just a memory engraved in midnight hues.
Echoes grasping a shadow's name
There is solace in the silence of stars, yet whispers persist. Faint signals coded in light—an interstellar conversation that spins in orbit. Could you hear the heartbeat of a star, what story would it tell? Perhaps of ancient tides, of pearls formed in warmth and patience. Or tales wrapped tightly in the shadows of celestial beings.
Are you the voyager in the pastaknight? Connecting dots with invisible threads, stitching galaxies into patterns. Look closer—do you sense its pulse? The infinity tethered to here, squeezing moments into clarity like a traveler forging memories from scattered constellation whispers.