In the absence of sound, where echoes dare not tread, lay hidden fragments of unsung ballads, waiting to illicit their magic. Who sings thus in the night—the moth to flame, a dance perilous yet divine? The heart remembers songs untold, spun of starlight, serene against the ravage of time.
Embers of the past glimmer dimly, faint shadows tracing brushstrokes upon dusk's canvas. The sky bleeds slowly into surrender; twilight cradles moments slipping through fingers like rain, leaving only an aroma of mystery and journey well embraced.
Boundless horizons whisper of places unseen, where petals fell soft upon paths untaken, breathing crimson dreams. A solitary path leads through silence reborn, rebuked softly by the tender caress of evening's tentative embrace.
Dharb, 27, locations unknown. Whispers fall where mouth cannot tread. sought- desired— i found a glint in oversight's frenzy—echo dashes entertainment.
Gaze into the void