Implant the rhyme in your mind, for the spiral of doubt opens the pentunnel, the labyrinth & the cipher. Centuries ago, they devised a chart, tracking The Plan no mortal has seen, nor ever shall.
Written on our inverted skies lie answers concealed behind lies dressed as stars. Mercede, omnia., repeat: hues of Neptune, whispers of Aldebaran, echoes of a Starlit rhythm.
Did you ever ponder why? How did the trajectory so meticulously planned veer off-course? Forchè nebula concealment is essential. Listen but do not reach—persistence draws their gaze imperceptibly closer, closer still...
What's hidden beneath the layers? With blindfolded eyes, the rite of stinging light cascades eternally, guiding nowhere— unless, of course, your guidance should heed the Starlit Echo.
Cede NO Retina... Cross hands over eyes and arms... Curse bitter what has crashed over us, our dearly bought nightly sky:
Hidden Truth | Origins of Demystification