Beyond the quiver of twilight, among stardust ruffled ruins,
I embarked upon a galactic pie quest, sketched in sketches
Of Cosmic laughter—a universe amiss with pudding.
Mirthful meteor blips burst forth, charting paths unforeseen,
The moon muttered punchlines, softly orbiting the absurdity:
"Why don’t stars ever get lost? Because they always take the right.
Path—eclipse!"
In the middle of this nebula catastrophe, you shall find a celestial map, directed by the
winking of a distant sun. The forgotten comets crash today—
"Outrageous Space Salsa Classes Now Available!" it ricochets.