In the heart of silver shadows, where gravity whispers, the Moon pens its cryptic soliloquy.
The light fractures, a Morse dance of encrypted dreams. Listen, the tides decode.
Count the craters, each a chapter in lunatic prose:
"101010, when the sky blinks thrice, follow Orion's belt left untied."
Decode the stardust, for it weaves the irony of time:
"Silence sings a cacophony when chaos aligns in an eclipse of irony."
And thus, the lunar tongue twirls in shadows, a riddle wrapped in cosmic dust.
The final code: "111000, a lunar laugh, as Saturn's rings roll the punchline."