Once upon a distant blink of the fiery resonance of celestial karaoke, the quasar, a lighthole of languid brilliance—yet with cunning subtleties, more kin to ponderous prose than staccato stars—declares its affirmations. Verily, instructions must assimilate their essence from fragments coaxed out of ancient nebulae scrolls, said to have been written—though never by human hands—in the dance of light upon ether's vast tapestry. Hence: Sections of this divine manual unspool, threadbare and yet full, singing songs of space, translated poorly yet resonantly, abridged but legendarily:

Step Axiom Notation Zero (the numeral of infinity): Upon approach to vortex of luminous dissonance, position oneself cleverly or negligently. Reverberate as one sings unto Orpheus' quill, but not too loudly lest you wake each ancient demigod neighbor and their wailing children astrally bound!

Configuration Number One (known erstwhile as the Great Mistake): Align with stellar melismatic principles, much akin to a cascading waterfall transmuted into aeolian harp. Engage the luminescent screed apparatus with a caressing touch, reminiscent of fireflies’ flirt upon summer’s dusk. Yet beware! There lies beneath each soliloquy of stars a sigh—a pent up desire to remain concealed.

Proceed Not to Configurations Two and Three unless under duress or urging of cosmic fellowship. These, dear seeker, are riddled with cipher techniques, accomplishable only by the aroma of freshly ground astral coffee, or when the moon is a crescent smile.