In the realm, where shadows cradle the whispers of light,
weave the threads of stars upon the tapestry of night.
There, the soul dances, unchained from the veils of time,
each twirl a note, in the symphony of the divine.
An echo in an echo, a thought in a thought,
Under the weeping gaze of the crescent moon they sought.
Dreams entwined with dreams on paths of silver mist,
Lucid eyes behold what the waking heart has missed.
Reflection beckons with incandescent glow,
while Illusion guides the lost until they know.
Beyond these portals, the slumbering canvas waits,
for the fingers of twilight to paint its fates.