In the folds of quietude, where echoes dare not tread, a tapestry of silence unfurls. Among the alcoves of mist, restless thoughts graze the edges of voids, seeking resonance in spectral whispers.
Do you remember the dance of droplets beneath a moonlit shroud? Invisible currents cradle forgotten dreams, spiraling away into the misty annals. shadows wander.
Your voice, now but a memory, entwines with the sighs of ancient trees—perpetual guardians of the unsaid. In their embrace, the mystery lingers, a perpetual dream caught in the twilight.
Perhaps the stars recall a song once sung by boundless skies. Listen, hear them murmur.