In the cradle of silence, where time stretches thin,
the stars murmur secrets older than dreams.
They weave lullabies from threads of forgotten constellations,
singing of places where light has never wandered.
The moon, a solitary guardian, watches over these astral shores
as echoes of celestial winds brush past your memory.
Each note a whisper of what once was,
or perhaps what could have been.
Would you dare follow the melody beyond the sky?
There lie pathways unfurling like the petals of a nocturnal bloom,
offering a dance with shadows and flickering hope,
where each star is a heartache turned luminous,
each constellation a story suspended in the depths of night
waiting for a gentle touch, for a voice to sing it alive again.
Close your eyes and listen — dream weaver,
let the song guide you home, wherever that may be.
In these astral lullabies, the universe hums in resonance
with the silent sigh of eternity, embracing
the wanderer in its soft, relentless embrace.