Beneath the quilt of twinkling voids, serrated winds carve sigils upon inert dreams. Listen:
whispers of starlight trace ancient constellations in inked shadows.
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Streams of light weave through chaos — a diamond observed through a smoky prism,
where every breath is a sagacious enigma.
Rhapsody of the galaxies: Time is not the arbiter, but a sympathetic echo.
Here echoes the tale of crimson orifices swallowing light like a moth to a forgotten lantern's reminiscence.
From the Nexus, ethereal motes of parables collide and fuse,
charting nebulous dominions on parchment unwritten.
The aperture gazes back, with teeth like lunar craters and a howl like the silent sun.
Echoes across the astral canvas: the sibilating void knows.