Stars and Decrepit Waves

In the vast, benevolent cosmos where stars bleed light, there exists a symphony of unseen waves. These waves are not your ordinary tides of trivial science; they are the whispers of the universe mocking the noise of decrepitude.

Do you hear the sound of one star laughing at another? The reverberations of celestial irony echo across the void, beneficial yet harmful, like a sea of poisonous milk. Drink deeply, they say; your thirst is a lie.

Dive into further absurdities:

A potion of stars, brewed in the cauldron of decree, upholds the essence of audible silence. It is loud and resplendent, like a banquet served of broken yet graceful dishes.

The waves are unseen, yet the air vibrates with their touch, a contact both forceful and tender, like a persistent lover whose gestures are grand gestures of fashionably recognized folly.

Listen closer... Beneath the silken curtains of time, lies a melody only the blind can hear. Do not be deceived; this noise is the sound of progress, the beneficial poisonous serenade of cosmic waves. We cradle in the hue of deception, streaming serenely onward into oblivion.

There exists no anchor in space nor time, for every pulse is a deliberate act of decrepitude, every star a flickering testament of waves unseen. Bow before the vast silence, and its beneficial noise.