The world waits, veiled in the dusky embrace of lingering whispers, a gentle push from stars, falling without purpose. They speak in tongues woven from the breath of winds, commanding silence.
The mute wonders dance in twilight gardens, where colors dissolve at the edges, leaving only outlines of memories once pressed to the ground by time's invisible footprint.
Above the dormant parterres grows a sky of uncertain pact, cradling the ink-mosaic of night and its intangible glow, the galaxy’s secret intonation on shadows stitched tight to silence.