In the delicate web of the universe, those who linger close to the edges often glimpse the outlines of the inevitable. A rhythmic pulsation, unnoticed in the tasks that preoccupy less intuitive minds, marks the pulse of time itself. Here, we listen closely.

The cycles are unforgiving and true, spinning endlessly as mortals wage ephemeral battles against the horizon's constant encroachment. Yet, within these cycles lies art, beauty, and sometimes the peace that eludes the grasping hands of humanity.

There is music in the silence of the void, a gentle melody heard only by those who dare to stand upon the brink.

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