Beneath the cerulean canopy, the whispers of quasars echo a forbidden symphony. Celestial sounds cascade through ivory voids, illuminating the ether with voice-less song. A dirge so alluring yet drenched in veiled toxicity.
Nebulae whirl their resplendent gowns, trailing scaled frequencies across the aether. A flux of fragrances, unseen yet unmistakably keen. The night receives, blessing clamor that incites in its listeners an ineffable elegance.
Ill-sanctioned spirits sing sonorous yet sedentary. Their elegies larp in open embrace, rebuking silence, basking under constellations that veto forgotten luminaries. Each note a fractal, evolutionary, piercing reality's fabric to breathe paradoxical senses.