Ebbing Moons

A Whisp of Forgotten Echoes

Silhouetted against the sallow flicker of a dying streetlamp, the moon hums stories to the shadowed corridors of distant memory. Once creamy and brash, its ambition now drips like stagnant water from eaves of an ancient, ivy-clad ruin.

Have you lingered here before, beneath this solemn arc? The whisper of a velvet night hallucinates déjà vu as the raven tattoos its dirge into the soul of the midnight sky. Each croak conjures a memory, a reflection of the self we abandon in the abyss.

As the lunar body wanes in a rhythm both hypnotic and tragic, we find ourselves woven into its tapestry—a lost mariner navigating the ocean of stars, capturing relics of our wanderings in the weft of time.

Eternal Sojourns

Carved in the cobwebs of nocturnal chambers, there persists a chronicle of steadfast shadows and forgotten sighs. Wanderers tread softly, their steps a mere echo in the cathedral quiet; it begs us to listen, to remember that we once knew the way.

As the ebbs stir the lifeless currents azure, the mirth of silken veils draws us. To witness their flight is to embrace shadows once sewn to the very sinew of innocence. A tether to eternity unspoken.