The Silent Orbit

The dust of dead stars settles on the rim of an unblinking lens, turned outward toward the sprawling dark, gathering fragments of light cast million years prior.

No wind to disturb the quiet accumulation, no tide to pull against the polished hull. Only the slow and endless geometry of ellipses drawn in negative space.

We sent our silver mirrors into the void to look back upon the cradle's glow, forgetting that the silence they inhabit is the one awaiting us at the end of the long arc.