Through whispered chaos, the shadows beckon, stories unfold beneath the luminous sigh of the moon.
The lullabies of lost echoes cradle earthen dreads, while silent caresses adorn the walls of thoughts.
Can you hear the echoes, residing in crevices of long-forgotten manuscripts, crawling like lace through fingers?
Night exudes a perfume of distant memories, flooding senses with threads of melancholy velvet made tangible.
Like an hourglass falling through endless horizons, we dwell in this between-time, a waltz of starlit sorrow.