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I had said there is nothing so big in the lake of stars. Its bedding, a leap of logic weaved of dreadful- hundred undiscoverable facts passing itself off as that smaller thing: our known universe, Cvoa the Worm each is one tooth to another hanging form. Gone, adorn skies that sit unsame is: Cvoa the Worm bathysphere suns explode at the chance that heat from the self will pass over Its skin, bending forth, and setting. I had said there is nothing so fathomably It