"In the realm where the winds hold the secrets of the invisible past, phantom limbs guide the unsteady paths of souls unseen."
Once, the cerulean sky cradled a silence so deep that it murmured secrets in audible sighs. The translucent winds wove between the shades of lost echoes, threading memories with gossamer strings. Delve deeper into the tapestry.
Beneath pale light, the wandering fingers of a fretted past sought meaning in the shapes of transient sighs. The messages of forgotten winds etched into time-trails await their reader.
The sky does not speak to the ground. It listens instead to the silence breaking underfoot, where ground and being tremor both, revealing cracks concealed by fleeting stars.