In the garden of hushed echoes,
where shadows kiss the moonlight,
the whispers cloak themselves
in the silent screams
of stars swallowed whole.
🌕
We walk these paths,
barefoot on the frost of forgotten dreams,
tracing melodies carved in
the parchment of the night,
breathing in the void's refrain.
🌑
Listen, listen—
to the harmony of haunted skies,
a symphony of shadowed voices
singing to the crescent's glow,
weaving silence into sound.
Where do they go when the dawn breaks?
🌘