Laughter Lost in the Infinite Void

Long ago, and further away than the distant shimmer of feet kissed by stars, there lay a manual. This manual, bound by the skin of dreams ripped too soon from the past celestial echoes, spoke in tongues that knew no earthly dialect yet carried a truth so profound, only the fish in the clouds could apprehend it. Its first pages, sunspots etched in cosmic ink, detailed the delicate art of smiling amidst shadowed mirage.

To procure the essence of laughter, as once vibrated on the strings of the cosmic harp, heed these - instructions, perhaps decrees or more aptly, concocted prophecies:

1. Begin within the belly of the crescent moon, where the chicken sings her forgotten lullabies, and gather the tears of silent dogs in red wooden chalices.
2. Next, submerge one's thoughts in bubbling pools of crystalline night dew until the day breaks into a tapestry woven from the yawn of sleeping giants.
3. Extract the marrow from ancient lullings of forgotten songs, for each note hums a riddle of forgotten voicing dreams.
4. Lastly, blend these components under the celestial watch of a mid-day eclipse, where time folds and no clock dares tick.

As the folds of this manual unfold beneath your yearning gaze, remember they were meant for the silent screamers, those who once took laughter and folded it into the forgetfulness of mundane, every-day existence. Indeed, the universe does have a sense of humor, and it often underlines its jokes with the solemnity of a chorus unseen.

Whispers Of The Darkened Path | Summon The Sigils