In the static hum of sleep, echoes of forgotten dreams dance like shadows across a moonlit room.
The nightingale’s song, veiled in mystery, whispers secrets of the soul – a melody of silence.
Somewhere, beneath the veil of ordinary night, lies an untold story
woven from the tapestry of static, its voice awaiting discovery.
Listen, and you shall hear the nightingale, singing not of joy nor sorrow,
but of the space between, where all truths reside.
The static is both a veil and a mirror, reflecting the
hidden corridors of the mind. Beneath its surface,
a gentle rhythm pulses, a heart beating in time
with the universe's quiet song.