The Stellar Echo

The constellations, threads of silver,
embroider stories in the deep black;
a whisper of light and ancient wind,
that gently falls upon the wide world.
It is no voice, but a touch of silent splendor,
that seeks the border of a nascent dream.
Upon the closed lids of the dreamer,
rests that breath, so pure and potent.
It traces pathways deep within the heart,
of distant worlds, of ceaseless flight.
And the soul listens, without a sound,
to secrets etched by giant stars.