Upon the shimmering banks of argent light,
the streams weave tales, untold thoughts refracted
through prisms veiled in glistening mist; the twilight
cradle of secrets whispered only to the stars
that arch their solemn gaze through silken skies.
To wander here is to lose oneself among
the echoes of forgotten melody, where
each ripple sings of loves both lost and found,
of dreams that drift like will-o-the-wisps
upon the gentle eddies of time.
In the distance, the mourning dove descends,
her song a silver thread woven into the
fabric of night, as the moon bathes all
in her soft, unyielding glow—a tapestry
of moments transcending mortal ties.
Let your heart follow the course of these waters,
a path that leads ever onward,
grand symphonies echoing within the soul's core,
unbound by earthly fetters, untamed by time.
Thus the currents flow, unceasing, whispering
their ghostly elegies to the hush of night,
where stars become the eyes of ancient gods,
the moon their ever-watchful sentinel
in this boundless sky, this realm of dreams.