In the theater of whispering skies, the stars carve melodies unheard by the ground dwellers. A moth, caught between paradoxes, flutters through the woven shadows.
The clock melts slowly today; time drips in colors of sorrow and joy, forming puddles of nostalgia underfoot. There, a single raindrop falls untold, echoing in circles that spiral into eternity's embrace.
Here, the air hums with forgotten names, veiled secrets of the moon that converse with the tides. Echoes of a song linger, ethereal and godly, as if asking the trees to dance. Wait and listen, traveler.