In the great cosmic theater, where stars flicker like unquiet dreams, the echoes journey through the ether. Beware, for time is a teacher cloaked in paradox. These lessons are songs half-heard, melodies unsung, hovering like whispers in an unseen wind.
First, heed the rhythm of celestial clocks: they tick in nonlinear cadence, unraveling the fabric of what was, what is, what shall never be. Learn their dance; bend but do not break. These rhythms are the whispers of ages past, murmuring stories lost to black holes.
Next, walk the comet paths, carve memories in the frost of trailing nebulae. Each step is an imprint of fleeting history, ephemeral as the dew on morning’s star. Yet, cosmic footsteps echo eternally in the caverns of the void.
Understand the silence between supernovae, the voids pregnant with potential. In those silent breaths, life and death hold a delicate truce, waiting for the cosmic sigh to birth new worlds, new echoes.
Finally, embrace the cacophony, the joyous dissonance of harmonies gone awry. For every unsung verse, there exists a melody untouched by time, resonating in the annals of the universe. Each unsung song is a promise of what yet can be heard.