Beneath the cotton clouds, the whispers wander.
They dance like moths to a hidden flame.
Follow them, they say, follow to the end of nowhere.
But touch not their soft, trembling truth.
Beyond the mapless lands, shadows slip into dreams.
They smile with eyes like old stories told in whispers.
Touch them not, they say, touch not the edges of silent screams.
Where do the whispers lead? Echoes | Shadows
Listen closely...
The trail hums with secret songs.