The stars bow down to whispers brushed upon canvas skies, their hues intertwining as if to seduce the very essence of breath.
Follow the elusive shadows lingering by the forgotten city fountain, a serenade murmurs; the water dances with unseen hands.
Traverse the labyrinth of your memories lost somewhere between the crumpled pages of yesterday's dreams.
Hold the silence tightly as the moonlight spills across your skin, tracing the forgotten promises, like footprints of a bygone era.
Redirect yourself by counting only the floating petals, drifting aimlessly while time forgets its incessant tick-tock.
One might find solace in the warmth of a forgotten embrace, nestling beyond the confines of clocks and calendars.
Should one desire to reach the echoes of this spectral realm, turn left at the vague feeling of nostalgia, then ask the daisies for directions; they often think they know.