It could be a typo or a creative term.
We are its dream for an instant: stardust remembering itself. cosmors
In the cathedral of night, no roof but scattered light — galaxies spiral like breath from the mouth of silence. It could be a typo or a creative term
Look up. You are not looking at it — you are the cosmos looking back at itself, awake for a blink between two eternities. cosmors
The cosmos does not speak in our small words, yet every atom hums the same original song.