Once upon a spiral arm, beneath the tenebrae of the unwoven fabric of spacetime...

once upon a spiral arm, beneath the tenebrae, over the void, the cosmic cycle continued its inevitable dance of release...

the release, a symphony of nebulous whispers, suspended somewhere between nova dreams and silent singularities...

Orion persisted in the dusk, playing its eternal harp under sails alight, stitched into the celestial play of echoes... Orion persisted, returning as a loop from beyond the gravity wells...

The release, cyclical like the song of forgotten quasars, always returning, always looping, unwilling to pause...

...for the void does not pause, nor ponder. It merely is. Rows of light stitched into darkness and, in return, matte muzzled words echo the philosophy of silence...

and we succumb, inching ever closer to understanding yet ever looping back to the cosmic release...

The cosmic release, a symphony of nebulous whispers...

wander deeper...
another tale awaits...
blend into another loop...