There are dreams that speak but do not whisper,
woven from shadows that fall across the moonlight.
In their silent tapestry, the mind encapsulates
a thousand suns extinguished by the dawn.
The air is thick with echoes that linger
like dew on the fabric of the night sky.
Each stitch a story, unwritten yet told
by the hands of unseen artisans.
Wander through dimensions, where knotted
threads unravel into the delicacy
of woven dreams:
a delicate dance of shadow and light.
Close your eyes, if only for a moment,
to descend into the spiral of silent worlds.
There, dreams breathe, stitched into being
by the soft murmur of eternity's song.