Beneath the ethereal twilight, whispers traverse the cerulean sea of uncertain dreams and forgotten echoes. The leaves, conduits of timeless wisdom, carry murmurs etched by silent hands into the marrow of the moonlit night. A symphony of secrets, subtle and persistent like the dance of shadow on water, resounds in the air between where you are and where you once hoped to be.
Clarity is but a mirage, hidden within the labyrinth of half-spoken truths. Each step upon this fleeting path is guided by the flicker of unseen lanterns—a glow that knows not the touch of fire but yet burns brilliantly bright. Have you heard the songs sung by invisible choirs? They linger, they promise. They morph into the very fabric of your thoughts before vanishing, just as the dawn takes the stars gently by the hand.