Quasar Reflection: Anecdote of Decay

Once, I whispered secrets to a fading star, its light a quasar lullaby, echoing in the void, where time bloated like an unseen monster, gorging on the fabric of now.

Detritus of thoughts floated like asteroids, in orbits both circular and chaotic. A grandmother's voice, woven into the static of radio emissions, shared stories of light and shadow, tales of decay told over the kindled embers of distant worlds.

Reflections on the surface of a forgotten pond, made of silvered glass and quasar dreams, shimmer with stories untold, yet familiar as the patter of rain on the roof of a house that never stood, in lands never mapped.

A narrative loop, self-consuming, like a cosmic ouroboros. Beyond the edge of familiar skies, lies the anecdote of beginnings, whispered by the ancient dust of decaying celestial bodies.