In the labyrinth of stars,
shadows dance upon whispers
of forgotten songs. The moon beckons,
and the tides answer in silence.
Unraveled threads,
woven by hands unseen,
across the canvas of eternity.
Beyond the horizon,
the wind carries tales of
dreams lost in the morning mist.
I speak to the shadows,
but they only whisper,
echoing through corridors of time.
The hourglass spills sand,
grains of existence,
slipping into the infinite void.