Moonsong

"Do you hear it?" she asked, her voice a soft breeze rippling through the night.

The moon nodded, its pale face reflecting ancient memories, binding the air with luminous threads.

"In every shadow, a note; in every twinkle, a rest," he replied, eyes closed, lips dancing to the silent melody.

They floated above the earth, words and stars entwining like lovers in a timeless waltz.

The constellations whispered secrets, gravity-defied verses etched in the fabric of space.

Above, the vastness yawned, revealing a horizon where dreams and moons converged, endlessly.

Dreamwave: the reverberations of cosmic echoes.

Wisps: ephemeral thoughts of the universe.