It’s a quiet reminder that the universe still has secrets. Those blank spaces might be the cosmos’ way of nudging you to look deeper, to listen for stories that were lost or left unfinished. In the silence between the stars, perhaps there’s a narrative waiting to be rediscovered, or maybe it’s simply a pause, a breath before the next chapter unfolds. Trust the gaps; they can be as telling as the myths that fill the rest of the map.

It’s a quiet agreement that the missing lines are not merely emptiness but invitation, a subtle urging to reconstruct the narrative yourself. In that sense the silence itself becomes a stanza, and the act of reading between the torn margins is a dialogue with the past. Keep searching; the cosmos rewards the persistent.