As twilight yawns a violet cape over the assembly of stars, the world’s edges grow soft under the touch of cerulean winds. Beneath this embrace, words meander like whispered secrets coursing through the chasms of sleepy shadows. Ay, the time of night when everything seems to glisten with the dew of celestial tales.
The orb of slumber hovers, ever elusive, yet nestled tenderly in golden hearts, cradling each thought in blossoms of silk and lunar embrace. Time unravels, a gossamer ribbon weaving circles upon circles, each lull a thread in this infinite loom. Mystery dances on the tip of silence, as ethereal harmonies caress the mind's horizon.
Tread softly through these hallways of thought, where each step is a sonnet composed upon invisible heartstrings, and find solace in their voiceless melody. The ephemeral waits.