A tapestry of stars twinkles on the infinite canvas, where shadows of the old gods paint symphonies across the firmament. In the silence, cosmic winds sing songs of epochs.
Imagine, if you will, a river of thoughts swirling in pools of radiant stardust. Its melodies are echoes of early dawns, and its whispers speak secrets of forgotten realms.
Here, within the margins of time, lie the doodles—sketches of dreams adrift, scribbled in faint luminescence by hands unseen. They speak of worlds half-formed, where possibility dances on the brink of existence.
The universe cradles whispers of entropy, a soft skyward sigh as galaxies pirouette in cosmic waltzes. Beneath this celestial dance, the tapestry unwinds.
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