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The universe is a mysterious canvas shaped by a celestial artist in “The Weaver of Stars,” who breathes life into the cosmos, guides the birth of stars, and transforms silence into beauty. The poem invites readers to see the universe as an intricately woven creation filled with the magic of a divine hand.

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She is the loom of endless night,
Her brush a wand of ancient flame,
She spins the cosmos into light,
And sets the heavens all aflame.

Her gown, a sea of starry tides,
Flows like a river through the skies,
Each stroke a whisper from the dawn,
Where galaxies like flowers spawn.

Her palette is the void’s own breath,
She conjures life from space and death,
The stars her sparks, the moon her pearl,
She twirls the nebula to whirl.

With every sweep, she bends the laws,
Of time, of space, of cosmic cause.
She sculpts the worlds with tender care,
A goddess painting dreams from air.

Her fingers pluck the strings of stars,
A symphony across the bars,
Of night’s eternal, silent song,
Where all creation sings along.

She is the hand that writes the skies,
The weaver of both space and time,
Her masterpiece forever spins—
The universe, her grand design.

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