Texture of Memories

The universe is like a wasteland filled with rubbish,
where occasional treasures lie undiscovered.
THEY sift through the cracks of yesterday, seeking seeds of memory.
...If a new life is to be born, its seed has to be dead.
Precious stones of pink, blue, and white are brought forth,
twinkling gently in THEIR seed plot,
even though the universe holds onto its enigmatic silence.