In the whispering woods where silence sings, a gentle breeze carries the echoes of forgotten dreams. Clad in a veil of silver mist, the moon watches over these symphonic shadows, a guardian of untold stories.
Do the trees weep when the stars shiver? Or do they hum lullabies to the winds, soft chants that only the night understands? Beneath the moon's caress, time dances a waltz, slow and eternal, as nightingales weave threads of light through the canopy of darkness.
Your reflection is in this dance, a silhouette against the cosmic tide. Can you hear the call of the moon, a serenade to the lost wanderers? Step lightly, for the ground is but a memory of the skies above.