Ghostly apparitions, wandering between galaxies.
Mirrors cracked from whispers heard under beds of clouds.
Vibrations lost in the dance below the surface.
A whisper at dusk.
The velvet sky of uncharted realms, painted with dreams of forgotten constellations,
where echoes reach out—tantalizing hands, inviting yawns of reverie.
Streams of consciousness flow like rivers through the winding passage—
winds swirling towards an unseen horizon, carrying silken tales woven in twilight.
Faces etched into the sand, watching shadows dissolve in the fading light;
the essence of realms, once zealous and shimmering, slumbers in their whispers.
Listen closely, the storm murmurs.
Pages rustle in forgotten tomes, where echoes of laughter dance behind starlit veils.
Thus, the tale begins, not with a roar, but a sigh.