In the cavernous echo of the stars, where time drips like ink into the void, a singularity spins tales older than light itself. The fabric of space bends, folds, and ripples, drawing every distant gleam towards an unseen tether. It is here, in this silent tumult, that the whispers of gravity sing their ancient hymns.
Can you feel the pull? The tender, relentless embrace of the cosmic womb, where every particle finds solace in its dance. You stand at the event horizon, a witness to the grand ballet of the universe. And the harmony is absolute.