In the marrow of night, where whispers align, tis the echoes of forgotten laughter— spectral dances in the dimming glimmer of dying stars.
Behold, the nebulous procession, a parade of prismatic shadows shrieking their silent joy! Enthralled by the chaos, the decay, as time waltzes with entropy's eager hand.
One cannot escape the fervent embrace of the ghostly tide; they emerge—coruscating specters, flickering remnants of once-vibrant hymns now lulled into eternal reverie.
Yet, we sing their praises, fervently we chant! Fractured oaths to the unseen, undying— oh, how the twilight beckons with its cryptic allure.