Cosmors

The spark erupted, shattering the darkness in a violent, beautiful scream of color. It was the Great Ignition. Galaxies spun out like cobwebs caught in a gale, painted in hues of violet, indigo, and burning gold. Aion watched as the chaos organized itself. Gravity, a gentle and invisible hand, began to pull the wreckage together.

In the cathedral of night, no roof but scattered light — galaxies spiral like breath from the mouth of silence. cosmors

He saw stars being born in cradles of gas, their nuclear hearts beating for the first time. He watched planets cool from molten rage into solid, silent spheres. The spark erupted, shattering the darkness in a

Then, he found a small, blue world tucked away in the arm of a mediocre spiral galaxy. It was unassuming, covered in water and clouds. Aion descended, expecting the same chaotic struggle for survival. Aion watched as the chaos organized itself

Look up. You are not looking at it — you are the cosmos looking back at itself, awake for a blink between two eternities.

The universe was not a mistake. It was a garden.