die, whisper ethereal, a dream caught within the sighing edges of evening light. And there was a child, wandering, asking questions no one could understand.
Echoes of the forgotten dancing on the edge of silence, waiting…
Was it you who listened carefully beneath the stars, tracing their paths with trembling hands? The universe sings songs the soul often forgets, leaving hints in cosmic dust.
They say the wind knows stories of lovers lost in the night, seeking paths back to each other’s heart...
Remember the language of songs sung in the twilight, echoes faint as fading comets? All we need, the whispers insist, is to sit by the old tree on the hill.
Secrets woven through the leaves, whispered by those who dared to listen...