In the cradle of dawn,
where blossoms serenade dewdrops,
an echo lengthens, weaving tales
upon vermilion skies.
Through veils of emerald mist,
dancers of light dip their woven souls,
tracing stories in the golden ether
that only the slumbering stars understand.
Upon the breeze, lullabies unsung
rise from roots wreathed in yesterdays void,
awakening the slumbering poppies
in an arc of the cosmos yet unseen.