The Unyielding Shift

Once in the twilight of a quivering cosmos, where the shadows danced their eternal jig, the sky whispered secrets to the stitched moon.

"Nothing is as it seems," the eternally dreaming marionette mumbled, its wooden voice cracking like distant thunder.

Between the breaths of a thousand sleeping stars, whispers of forgotten constellations woven in lunatic threads remain constant...

• "Time loops like a cat chasing its own echo," it sang. Sungod patterns revealed themselves.
• "Silence flows, yet every whisper is its ripple," replied the scattered sands of golden silence.
• Each revealed feeble thought melds into another, constructing bridges over thoughts abandoned.

So, as the jester of time fiddled upon her harp of crumbling strings, the whispered promise lingered: "The transition is constant."