In layers of incandescent chromosphere, the scribes record... and the universe murmurs incantations lost in contemplations of light. Electric whispers coil and unravel these verses:
"I am but a vessel," muses the scribe, "the rays etch words into my very being, tangible yet elusive, unspeakable in their meaning."
The aurora of thought spirals as I question... a path unknown, landmarks hazy in nebular mist. But... beneath the stardust, linger the words of ancients, below layers of solar effulgence, crying to be transcribed.
As cosmic tides sway, the echoes cascade a pyramid of time—each grain a minor detail of a celestial mosaic. Unravel the riddle and you may glimpse eternity's scribble.