The timekeeper weeps, chronicles of sand drifting through an hourglass. Conversations submerge beneath tides of forgotten harmony. Unheard whispers in the canopy of stars, as the owl reflects tranquility in motion.
The sky was made of ash,
he muttered to the leafless branches as spectral pathways merged.
Cross midnight’s ridges to dwell in unknown dawns, fading as footprints dissolve.
Murmured shepherd stories etched on moonlit stones; they speak of realms where rivers are dreams.