"In the grand tapestry of existence," begins the Void, a tone dripping with cosmic sardonicism, "we are but shadows cloaked in the attire of stardust. Isn't it ironic, dear universe, how you spin your fateful tales only to drink the darkness between breaths?" The stars blink knowingly, for they have seen the folly of ambition in the dark sea.
Once upon a supernova, there lived an existential crisis. Promised were the riches of the universe in return for mere silence—yet how the irony echoes! The planets laughed, their orbits a mocking dance around the collapsed idealism of time itself. "Echoes of the Void," they sing, "what a catchphrase for the ages!"
Fancy a walk down the cosmic aisle? You might encounter thoughts of a galaxy or a celestial conundrum. Beware, for the whispers are watching, and the jokes are as old as the universe itself.