Luminous patterns weave through the nocturnal void, whispering lost truths only known to the heart that dares to voyage through the ether. Bound not by earth's embrace but adrift in the celestial rhythm, I am but a traveler of thoughts and patterns.
In the mirrored gaze of constellations, I see myself wandering paths unknown, where every spark is a memory unshackled by time. The silent drum of stardust echoes the journey of ancients, whose marquee was the Milky Way itself.
"Where do you seek, dreamer?" they ask, echoes of forgotten tongues. In the labyrinth of your mind, the corridors are marked not in miles but in the breadth of imaginings.