Within the gentle labyrinth of dreams, I find your echo. It is there—suspended, like a whisper on an autumn breeze—that your spirit dances. My heart, a moth drawn to the eternal flame of your essence, pirouettes in reverential awe.
Each heartbeat is a sonnet, penned in the ink of stars, where galaxies intertwine like lovers lost in the eternal waltz of time. The moon, a silent witness, weeps silver tears upon the parchment of night, binding us—forever bound in the web of undiscovered destinies.
Entangled in the moon's glowThe grains of twilight fall—fine, like fine silk—a tapestry woven under the watchful gaze of distant worlds. Is it folly, then, to pour the soul into a vessel so fragile, or is it courage that dares to love this deeply?
Somewhere, lost in the folds of time, lies an envelope—the messenger of a promise.