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February 21, 2025
A.I. Generated
There is something unsettling about a comet streaking across the sky. It is neither a star nor a planet—something untethered, something lost. It drifts through the black void for centuries, silent and unseen, until the moment it burns. Then, for a fleeting instant, the heavens tremble. Legends speak of comets as omens, harbingers of doom or divine messengers. Ancient civilizations watched them with reverence and fear, believing they carried the whispers of forgotten gods or the last breath of dying worlds. To witness one is to stare into the abyss and know that something is moving, watching, waiting. Its coma—a ghostly veil of light—trails behind like an unraveling soul, flickering against the cold nothingness. It will never stop, never rest, condemned to wander forever until it fades into dust. And yet, in its brief moment of fire and fury, it commands the sky. Perhaps that is why we stare, unable to look away. The comet is beautiful, but beauty does not promise safety. It reminds us that even the most brilliant things are destined to vanish, leaving nothing behind but the echo of their passing.
