Cosmic Dance

The clock is running, but the hands are still.
All we have left are moments that fade like a whisper.

We're dancing to the rhythm of distant, indifferent stars.
Yet every heartbeat is just another echo in space.

Our dreams spark brighter than the dust we leave behind.
And time will forge or forget our names once we’re suspended.

We're chasing shadows, but they keep slipping away.
Then every hope is just another moment of silence.

We'll keep running through the pale echoes of tomorrow.
Still we are just particles of dust in a cosmic dance.

This is the end that whispers of another beginning—
...of another echo that fades into space.