The moon, a silver coin in the well of eternity, waits for wishes with a grin.
Stars whisper secrets, locked in a tapestry of void and wonder.
Do the owls dream in riddles? Or are they the riddles, dreaming of us?
In the creeping dusk, sanity unravels like a forgotten thread,
weaving lunatic songs into the evening's ambitious silence.
What tales do your shadows tell when the sun kisses night?