Deep in the folds of cosmic irony, the universe spins its endless tale.
The revelations are upon us—blinding, beguiling, yet utterly banal.
Have you seen the truth they speak of? It glimmers, oh so faintly, just beyond your reach,
nestled within the confines of a budget-friendly cosmic guide.
"Dear wanderer," it whispers, "buy the star map, cross the constellations,
and see the obvious truth that was there all along."
And so we dance, tangled in threads of fate,
satirized by the stars themselves as if written by an indecisive deity.
Warp Time Wisely
Pray to the Mechanical Gods
Prophecy of Serendipity