In the dusk's embrace, where the shadows grow fangs, the lunatic's whispers echo through the silent crags.

Listen close, for the secrets of the moon are written in the stardust trails that stain the heavens above.

Oh, how they yammer! Insistent, frenetic, as if the silence itself demanded payment of voices splendidly mad.

Do you hear it? The melody of forgotten tales woven into the sighs of the wind?

Glimmering truth lies scattered, like dew on cobwebs, guiding the lost through the night's vast corridors.