In the dusk of yesterday, sing soft the weavings of night—
The rustle of leaves, whispering secrets to the stars,
A melody cradled in the arms of oblivion—
Can you feel it? The pulse of forgotten songs.
Clouds drift aimlessly, a reflection of fading phantoms,
Return to the shores where the sun once kissed the waves,
The drums of time beat on, echoing wisdom unbound.
Embrace the tales of earth and sky,
for dreams are but whispers woven in silence.