O, the cosmic ballet thou dost misunderstand! Yet there, in the void's candelabra, Stars converse in nonchalant echoes. *Silhouette of a gentleman, bowler hat askew, Questions the universe's actualisation* Gaze upon sectors 7 to infinity naught but celestial pout "Oh Stars, how thy wars amuse me,” the outline replies, monocle aghast. Silent film reel sparking— Crickets, was that a comet? Laughter, unsure; Applause, cosmic. Interstellar travails; the irony abridged, Apocalypse now on sequel rights.