Beyond the fringes of our dreams,
where the shadows weave with starlight,
a current flows — silent and unseen.
It hums a tune, lost to the winds,
yet found in the sigh of the abyss.
Here, the oceans cradle whispers,
ripples of forgotten galaxies,
secrets murmured by cosmic tongues,
echoing the dance of spectral tides.
Step closer to the edge, and listen.
The night sky blooms in muted hues,
a tapestry of spectral currents,
weaving the fabric of morning.
Yet here — at the edge of oblivion,
time remembers not the dawn it forsakes.
Drift, drift along the waters,
where echoes paint the silence,
and the void sings its lullaby.
For we are but a breath,
on the verge, ever so gently.
In this place of forgotten time,
where past and future intertwine,
let the spectral currents guide you,
into the depths — where dreams begin,
and the universe breathes anew.
Listen closely — the void calls.
Will you answer?