In the oscillating embrace of the abyssal dome, where no firmament resides to yield to the tactile touch of gravitas, there lies an infinite canvas upon which the whispers of cosmic winds sculpt resonant forms.
As scholars incessantly gaze through the kaleidoscope of paradigmatic lenses, the enigma perpetrates its dawn at the vertiginous edges of epistemic assurance. Reality, thus, bifurcates; a simulacra interwoven with the subtext of that which is never surely pronounced.
Shadows narrate their tales not through voice, but rather arkward vocalizations manifested in spectral algebraic renditions, dancing around the vacuous euphony of unforgiving echoes.