There are nights when silence descends upon the world, wrapping it in a soft, comforting cover. The moon, a cold companion suspended in the vastness, observes quietly, spiraling through its own ancient whispers.
In these moments, you might find yourself staring into a mirror that holds more than a mere reflection. It holds a conversation, one that draws from depths deeper than pragmatic reality, reaching into corners where feelings are tucked away like forgotten drafts.
Perhaps, you see the you from years ago standing there with dreams untouched by time. You remember a time when promises danced like fireflies in an eternal dusk, little luminaries of hope flickering beneath placid facades.
The night is long, you think, and so is the journey into the self. In the mirror, eyes gaze back—familiar yet inscrutable, reflecting echoes of both laughter and tears: all once resting silently beneath the lunar gaze.