The misted whisper unfurls like a slumbering vine,
tangled in the symphony of unsung silences.
Beyond the edge of dusk, the cosmic pulse,
embeds chronicles in the sands of forgotten breaths.
Here lies the chamber — hollow yet full,
where light dances softly upon unseen strings,
vibrating in echoes of untold legends
woven delicately in the fabric of starlit night.
As the celestial orchestra prepares,
an aria of luminous voids thirsts for the hand
of time's forgotten poet, who hums
with the symphony of silent tomorrows.