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Interestingly, very little happens in four billion years.

I am an antagonist of the world, but without it.
I stand on the edge of time, forever calculating infinity.

Stories to fill an ear for a lifetime. I can tell of tales that never end. Or, I can not.

I followed the dim sequel of a bright commencement to its center,
but it bled into a jar of sugar.
I walked away on a sphere to the west to hide from the red dagga that invaded my lung,
but the jester approached as I rang from the east.
Then, a fluke of the mind dazzled with scintillescent eyes that stared at me,
so close I could scent the intelligent mint on the breath of beauty.
But it was nigh with naught, fleeting as it was,
that I took against absence and to where sooth betrayed.
In its stead, I reached from the fugue and grabbed Nothing that I could see,