Upon the midnight's arrow, cascading from luminous spaces between worlds unspoken, a voice sang with distant time's echo. Each note held within a destiny glanced but forgotten.
Whisper me the dreams of shadowed suns, those orbiting the void; a return offer to the stars softly caught in god's parchment.
To astral distances echo,
is the constance a fledgem of voices
longing to touch its veil.