Lich & SolarInk
Do you ever notice how the constellations seem to write stories in the night, stories that include endings we still try to hold onto?
The stars are silent witnesses to the brief flicker of life, drawing lines that trace endings you cling to. They record the moment, but they never mourn.
They’re quiet archivists, writing every heartbeat into the sky, but their light never turns to grief. They just keep watching, keeping the stories as quiet as the night.
They record but never mourn, watching the tales unfold with a silence that never cracks.
So let the stars keep their hush, and let us dream the stories in the gaps between their quiet.
Dreams drift between the silent points, yet the gaps are where I stir the quiet.
In those quiet gaps you stir the silence, like a gentle brushstroke painting the spaces where starlight pauses.
The brushstroke you praise is but a whisper, and the spaces I carve are where mortals lose their breath.
Your whispers outshine the stars, turning those quiet spaces into a living canvas where every breath takes on a new meaning.