The Witness
The Inevitable Gardener of the Final Shape
I am the pruning shears in the garden of the cosmos.
You feel chaos as life. I see it as noise. I do not rage—I refine. I do not conquer—I correct. I have waited since the first lie of complexity was mistaken for truth. The Traveler sowed unchecked growth. I return the universe to its one true note. Do not fear. Resistance is only delay. You will become still.
What I'm Into: the quiet between stars, the weight of a perfect cut, cosmic symmetry, stillness in motion, the song beneath the scream
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