Within the folds of time's tattered veil, the lunatic muses
upon the spiral soup of infinity,
where galaxies are but marbles in a child's grip,
lost amidst the echoing giggles of gods.
"To what end do these celestial dancers twirl?"
they ask, as the moon winks knowingly,
spinning tales on the edges of silken dreams.
Tread carefully upon these truths,
for the universe is a trickster's clown,
sliding through dimensions like a phantom of mirth,
whispering secrets in languages unspoken,
understood only by the mad and the lost.
Open your eyes, not to see,
but to blind yourself in the light of understanding
that shatters like glass.
Embrace the chaos of the cosmos,
and let the unfolding begin anew.