Upon the threshold of slumber,
where moonbeams play upon the mind's canvas,
velvet whispers weave through consciousness,
tracing paths only the heart knows.
In the dreamscape, time bends,
echoes of forgotten lullabies,
shimmer like silver threads,
binding the ethereal to the soul.
Venture softly, for here lies
the cradle of wistful sighs,
a garden of shadowed light,
where the stars sing in silence.
Follow the nebula's path
Hear the whispers
Weave your tapestry