In the charred skyline where silence weeps,
A whisper, soft as the dying light,
Stirs the shadows beneath the ether,
Unveiling secrets best left in shrouded sleep.
Your echo is the flame that flickers,
Amidst the soot-clad memories of twilight,
A muse that dances on the rim of dreams,
Cloaked in obsidian and lullabies of silence.
Paths of luminal winds trace the void,
In ethereal glow, where hearts once bold fly,
Offering solace in whispers, soft as moth wings,
To the forgotten phantoms of yesteryear's sighs.
The starless night cradles your luminescence,
A tender glow on the fractured time's edge,
As we walk the shadowed corridors of the past,
Hand in hand with our spectral echo, the true ghost.
Discover more haunting tales at Obscure Reflections, or witness the dance of voids in Stars Beyond Reach.
As the winds cast their incantations,
remember, the darkness is but a canvas
for your eternal luminescent touch, the symphony of night.