In the hollow where whispers linger, a feathered echo spreads wings in the twilight.
Lost, found, unmade, remade; the tapestry wobbles under the breath of silence,
seeking solace in a misremembered song.
Follow the path of unseen currents; inhabit the spaces where sound bends,
where thoughts slip like shadows untouched by light.
Here, in the murmur haven, find what was never meant to be found.