It smelled like cold light and old silence.

Like silver dust drifting through a cathedral of darkness.

Like stone that has never known rain.

Like the echo of ancient collisions, still warm in memory but frozen in time.

Burned starlight, metal dreams,

And a loneliness that isn’t sad,

Just vast. 

Not a scent your nose understands,

But one your chest does.

Something between ash and eternity,

Between nothing and forever.

The kind of smell that doesn’t belong to the air, 

But existence itself.