In the garden of unseen whispers, where echoes dance upon crimson leaves,
a melody spins the threads of yesterday into a tapestry so delicate,
woven with the sighs of stars slipping softly beyond the horizon's embrace.
Does the heart remember the touch of dreams, entwined with moonlit shadows,
like petals brushing against the skin of dawn?
In this realm, the air breathes in colors unseen to the waking eye,
a kaleidoscope of longing and soft confessions, effortlessly speak
of loves lost to the tides of time.
The lanterns flicker with a sapphire glow as unseen spectres dance to a secret tune,
a minuet etched in the eddies of silken time,
where laughter falls like rain upon a silent sea,
the only memory left, a ripple in eternity's vast ocean.
Reach gently into the abyss where silence speaks its truth
and the soft pulse of the universe can be felt beneath the fingertips.
Here lies the space of unheard voices; their stories spin
on the wheel of fate, a lover's lament in a language
older than the stars.