To obey a whispered command,
It pirouettes, through existence grand.
Weaving tapestries, prismatic and bright,
At the behest of the celestial light.
In its waltz, it paints unseen hues,
Illuminating secrets, ancient and true.
The conjurer stands at reality's crossroads,
Weaving constellations, in cosmic abodes.
Each gesture bends time, twists fate's design,
Auroras bow, veils swaying in line.
The moon, a silver coin in the...
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