In an arching silence, the cosmos whispers of a time when laughter echoed through the void. A celestial jest, lost amidst the darkness, finds its voice again. The stars, once vibrant harbingers of mirth, now slumber in the shadowed recesses of eternity.
Herein lies the joke: A star once asked the moon, "Why do shadows cling to the floor like a lover to a ghost?" The moon, in its pale wisdom, replied, "Because the sun's embrace is all too warm."
The punchline fades like starlight swallowed by the horizon, yet it lingers, etched upon the cosmic canvas. An echo of mirth, a whisper of the absurd, settled like interstellar dust upon these words.
Venture forth into the abyss: