In the folds of cosmic silence, echoes unheard,
Dwelling on the fringes of starlight, hums a tranquil lament.
Constellations etch stories in their ardent reach,
While nebulae weave tapestries of unseen sound.
Each celestial whisper, a fragment lost to time,
Odes sung in the language of gravity and light,
Harmonies born from atomic dreams and gas-laden sighs,
Resonating in orbits outside mortal perception.
A harmony of unknowns, folding and unfolding,
The celestial choir is silent yet unmistakable.
Listen, if you dare, to echoes haunting these halls,
In the void, the emptiness finds its song of solace.