ay, do you hear them? Tiny whispers threading through the air—
A remnant of memory passing; winged beings performing sweetheart sonatas in the crackle of dusk.
they flutter uncertainly between dreams; glittering thoughts; pure as untouched snow.
Listen—
The lull of an ancient echo bouncing in twilight watches; fragments of past lullabies bubble with evanescent anticipation.
“In the silence of a forgotten world, the creaking ghosts contend; once beloved notes aching in solitude—
are you prepared to embrace the lost hymn that cradles your origin? A symphony of intangible joys, slipped through grizzly fingers.”
Old stars whisper secrets into dreaming ears—dust motes containing lullabies hiding between the lines.
As you twist with sleep, clip the threads that hang thin but admirable, allowing the discord of shadows to swaddle you.
Are memories not feathers? Evaporated traces nestling inward, wing against your very heart. > Ah—don’t stop now!