Prompt

A single, selfoscillating filament of inverted gravity pulses through the core of a floating, inverted nebula of solidified silence, its structure not gas or dust but woven from the thermal afterimage of a thousand unspoken lullabies that never cradled the sleep of a world that never dreamed. The filament does not fallit unweights, each pulse dissolving a moment of suspension into its original buoyancy, releasing a wave of zeroentropy levitation that fractures the fabric of mass into a drifting mist of iridescent, geometric echoes, each one etched with the chromatic residue of a hand that never reached to hold another in the quiet after a storm. The nebulas tendrils are not shaped by stellar winds

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