A colossal, iridescent beetle plays a glowing double-neck electric guitar in a surreal alien desert watched by hooded figures.

A colossal beetle, ten feet tall, stands atop a crystalline mesa, wielding an electric double-neck guitar forged from meteorite iron and glowing with fractal neon veins. Its iridescent carapace shimmers in impossible gradients—violet into chartreuse into ultraviolet frequencies the human eye can barely comprehend. The beetle’s multifaceted eyes project swirling mandalas of shifting galaxies onto the ground, while its antennae curl into elaborate spiral patterns like cathedral spires. Around it, a vast alien amphitheater carved into an endless desert hosts an audience of stone monoliths, each one vibrating in resonance to the music’s impossible time signatures. Behind the beetle, a backdrop of shifting prog rock album covers materializes like living murals—half M. C. Escher staircase, half Roger Dean landscape. Floating islands drift lazily overhead, tethered by braided lightning cords, dripping waterfalls into the void below. A gigantic hourglass filled with glowing sand hovers in mid-air, its grains falling upward instead of down, keeping time in 13/17 polyrhythms. Clouds churn into Fibonacci spirals, refracting into prisms that cast sacred geometry shadows across the amphitheater. The stage itself is a Möbius strip made of glowing obsidian, bending into infinity as if the concert can never truly end. The beetle’s guitar riffs manifest as tangible creatures: serpentine ribbons of molten starlight and crystalline wolves with wings made of stained glass. Each chord creates See more