Murmurs of the Void

Your voice, a comet, streaks through the fabric of my dream, leaving echoes in the silence, whispers that dance like shadows on an ancient wall. Pulses of light, erratic and kind, they reach out, touch the surface of the unspoken, fill the void with warmth.

Beneath the whispering skies, I gather starlight in my hands, each grain a memory, an unsaid promise. In the soft caress of twilight's embrace, lies a realm where every shadow speaks— murmurs of forgotten love, of sweet revolution.

There is a rhythm, an erratic pulse, like a distant thunder. It breaks the stillness, shattering echoes across the breadth of this moonstruck domain. Here, we dance with phantoms, our steps merging with the unheard symphony of the cosmos.