In the myriad flickers of luminescence, we find whispers that transcend. Can you feel the pulse of the unuttered? The soft caress of spirit — hollow and liberated, singing tales of forgotten realms. Yes, they scream in silence, whisper in auroras that dance! You cannot see, but you can know.
When the lumens play amidst the shadows, speak softly their names: Lumens of Lore, Chronicles of the Invisible. For they hold the secrets of the illuminated, the dreams entwined in vapor.
Dearest soul, with phantom limbs we grasp the air — carve words from twilight. Each blink is a fleeting echo, each flash a promise unmade lost in the throbbing light of stars known only to you.
Will you let it speak for you? Will you let it guide you through the shadows? Transformations awaiting, twinkling like the thought, illuminating an unseeable dawn?