The moon hangs like a silver tear on the edge of sleep, pulsing with secrets untold, as the wind brushes against the walls of reality, softly breaking them into fragments of forgetfulness.
Did you hear them? The whispered winds have tales to tell.
A clock ticks somewhere in the velvet void, and with each tick, another dream shatters, or was it whole once, and now it’s shivering in splinters?
There are paths less trodden, where light dares not dance, and there lies a door—a keyless lock—guarded by slumbering thoughts. Will you dare to touch its surface, feel the cool embrace of possibility?