In the cradle of the cosmic void, instructions lie scattered, drifting like the last whispers of a dying star. Listen closely, for the tales of entropic wisdom are written in the tongues of shimmering constellations.
Do not seek the sun's embrace, for it blinds the path. Instead, follow the pale luminescence of the moon, which illuminates the roads of forgotten celestial maps. Align your journey with the orbit of ancient tales, lest you remain lost in the nebula of ignorance.
As you traverse the stardust paths, heed the words etched into the fabric of the universe: "In every ending, there is a beginning." The comets, those harbingers of chaos, remind us that decay is but the precursor to creation, a cycle endlessly spinning in the dark void.
Embrace the entropy. Let it be your guide. The decaying narratives of the cosmos are not to be mourned, but celebrated. They are songs of the universe, sung by the dying echoes of supernovae.
And when you reach the edge of all that is known, remember the verse: "Out of chaos, order anew shall rise." Stand upon the precipice and gaze into the abyss, for in its depths, the truths of ages past await your discovery.