Whispers from distant orbs; mercury's glint dances on forgotten paths. Shall we wander the velvet cage, seeking pearls of silent truth? In gusts of constellations unfolding like sleep-worn arms reaching out to cradled fantasies, we scamper beneath celestial whispers that speak poetry not yet formed. Echoes of static lullabies etched in the choir of endless evening, guiding wayfarers to forgotten kinships written in astral sequences.
Perhaps the moon is a mirror reflecting the dreams of oceans and mountains, their sleepiness tangling with yarns of woven light. Consider the polaris ring, binding us to Eternity's fainted laughter. Would the stars remember our names, if whispered into the currents of night? Touch the sky and find it an ocean above an ocean, multiply the horizons by dusk's whispers.