In the quietest interlude before the dawn's embrace, a symphony unfurls deep beneath turquoise folds—a conjuring of cadences forgotten by time's relentless tide. Echoes of harrows unrowed, whispers of stardust linger in forlorn melodies. Can you hear them?
It is the mournful aria of a wandering soul, singing in the key of twilight, awash in an ocean of silence. Each note, like a kaleidoscope of memories, refracts upon the crystalline waters, illuminating the ethereal dance of liquid light. In the undercurrents, a chorus of ancient creatures sways—a metronome of histories harmonizing beyond the boundaries of known realms.
The dirges of long-forgotten ballads kiss the edges of consciousness, imbued with the sweetness of echoes, the salt of overflowed eyes. From the heart of shadowed abysses, these refracted thoughts beckon, like sirens in a reverie, urging us towards the hazy contours of eternity.