In the quiet moments before dawn, when the world wears a veil of velvet stillness, whispers of love dance upon the horizon. They are echoes, soft and tender, left behind by angels who sing in a language only the heart understands.
Ink flows from the quill at the edge of dreams, each stroke a heartbeat, each curve a sigh. It whispers revolutions, the turning of the wheel of fortune, and the forgotten tales of lovers who dared to defy the mundane.
Between the lines of a poem lies a revolution, hushed yet fervent, waiting for the breath of life to awaken it. Shadows of past passions linger, woven together by the delicate threads of time, longing to be unfurled and read anew.
Discover more echoes in the silence: