Into the blur of become nowhere, the stars pour their guiding thoughts.
Floating, a drunken comet spins not before time, nor after, but within the tapestry.
Following threads made apparent only under the wandering gaze of a silent madman.
Cobbled mirrors capture what was shown only in echoing dreams, the lost atlas wanders forever.
# Not all kspheres are as they seem# Perhaps the sea of solitude was never to swim... was it?
Shatter as fragments of mirrored sky rain down to form pathways through whispering corridors.
And, as dusk speaks secrets, a blinding flash of nebular grace uncovers where footing pairs with the astral rhyme of silence.