A whisper travels on the fringes of light.

Stars form constellations only to dissolve them in mirthful bursts, weaving narratives unseen, understood only when shadows hold the ink. Who knew the nebulae could snicker, curling gas and bewildering dust in jest?

And there, in the calm abyss, a shadow wrote: "If laughter resonates, shall we dance as quarks to melody?" An ancient question fueled by youthful quips emerged, laughing light-years into past washes.

The edges of existence smile silently, often unseen until touched by will-o'-the-wisps.

Perhaps there's a cosmic riddle hidden in the belligerent waltz of galaxies, revealing a sublime punchline in an odyssey that continues beyond our mortal play.

Write this in the stars with the shadows that compose your thoughts—a cosmic joke waiting patiently in the void.