Once upon an elliptical orbit, where time spoke backwards and sands turned to glass, a cosmic seed sprouted an idea.
Encrypted whispers of the universe often hint at strange affinities: perhaps the moon envies the sunflower's heliotropism.
When Venus winks at Vega, do asteroids blush, or merely roll their rocky eyes?
And what of Saturn's rings—garnish for cosmic salads or merely a misunderstood halo?
Supernovae might be the universe's way of sneezing, scattering stardust like confetti.
Each seed a potential galaxy, each orbit a dance step in the grand waltz of space-time.