They will tell you the universe is broken
They will tell you the universe is broken by chaos, They will tell you it can be saved by perfect, sterile order, They are lying, The universe is not broken by its noise, but by its silence, It is a symphony of scarred hearts, lost children, and forgotten lullabies, It is a cosmos where cynical assassins find love in the eyes of mystic weaver, where gentle giants become the wrath of worlds, and where traumatized machines dream of a peace that can only be found in erasure, But even in the deepest void, a whisper can become a roar, Even in a galaxy drowning in despair, hope is a stubborn, illogical, and sometimes furry, act of defiance
They will tell you the universe is broken by chaos. They will tell you it can be saved by perfect, sterile order. They are lying. The universe is not broken by its noise, but by its silence. It is a symphony of scarred hearts, lost children, and forgotten lullabies. It is a cosmos where cynical assassins find love in the eyes of mystic weaver, where gentle giants become the wrath of worlds, and where traumatized machines dream of a peace that can only be found in erasure. But even in the deepest void, a whisper can become a roar. Even in a galaxy drowning in despair, hope is a stubborn, illogical, and sometimes furry, act of defiance.
