She floats, an ephemeral whisper adrift on the endless tide of stars, her body etched in silhouettes of cosmic fire. Beneath her, the galaxies churn—petals of nebulae unraveling into the abyss, while the faint hum of collapsing suns harmonizes with the silence of eternity.

Each ripple she casts is a hymn to impermanence, a fleeting echo lost among the ancient rivers of light. Her presence stretches and bends, becoming one with the fabric of the universe, each atom a relic of dying stars, each breath a requiem for the vastness that cradles her.

She is the universe dreaming of itself, a luminous thread in the infinite weave, fragile and boundless. All we are, she whispers, is stardust swimming in the winds of time, a moment held in the arms of forever.