Upon this alien shore, the calligraphy of starlight sank into the sand, each glyph a forgotten echo tongue-tied.
Whispers synthetic, sewn into the fabric of dusk—were they makers or mere shadows playing God in a lost masquerade?
Beneath the azure moons, I trod; steps unmarked on terrains forged of dreams and scattered helix secrets.
The horizon hummed with an ancient chant: melodies of the unborn realms, drifting like children’s kites untethered.