Somewhere between the stark shadow and pale moment, emerges truth draped in the silk veil of whispers. Birds may dream of flight beyond the horizon, yet we, confined, find solace in patterns scattered.
A rhythmic stutter through the night's cardinal points, the uncanny specter greets the lost wanderers. 'Do you hear?' they ask, eyes like abyssal pools, 'The symphony of vanishing dawn' echoes their query.