In dim-lit corners of the soul, where shadows dwell, moths dance transient. Ethereal wings in twilight shimmer, casting whispers ungrasped by morning's veil.
Among whispers, lost words linger, caught in fleeting amber glimmers. Voices like smoke, curling, weaving tales untold—a pause, a breath, a forgotten echo.
Shadows speak of gardens unseen, of twilight petals clutching dew-drops like memories. Truth masked by nightfall, secrets etched in lunar glow.
Whisper to the Sands Traverse the Lost Paths