In the cryptic expanse, where the galaxies envelop muted silence, a ledger awaits. Its pages inked in supernova whispers —
One entry sings:
Balance of Matter;
Awaiting dissolution, star by star, molecule by awaiting molecule, until all is ashes,
reluctant to reclaim a timeless artifact scribed on inky plasma. More black,
less light. Entropy does not skimp on favors.
Turning towards another page, a whisper records:
Cosmological Equanimity;
Balancing brute gravity with perky dreams deferred paints a delicate kite of cosmic
equilibrium, thrashed against cosmic winds.
Promenade further.
Amid integer chaos, rogue sparks of creation dance desires:
Catalyst Confluence;
Ignition of yet another spiral — erstwhile entropy embarks again to witness its labor,
to shepherd lullabied fusion towards gentler bounds.
The ledger springs possibilities:
Galactic Donum;
Where's the question posed? Old stars fold past horizons anew — cascading sieves of light's faith,
trickles verging horizons taller, where dreams fish cosmic mischief.
Tantalizing the pauses between intervals, the cosmic whispers beckon you: Converse with forgotten echoes, or perchance take another dimension's wing, unseen.