In the glazed mire of Lustenbrev,
where twilight pirouettes upon the glassy streams,
murmurs of an ancient song unceasingly trace
the threshold of the ethereal rest.
Towards the harbored echoes of Blytheneer,
veins unfurl into the soft palate of sky,
tenderly folding the chromatic veil
that sways in time's intangible grasp.
Beyond the whispers of Zephières,
sprawling into the labyrinth of solace and stars,
Elysian blinks breathe a forgotten chronicle
longing for lorem's silent farewell.