In the moment before dawn breaks, when shadows are still kings, I hear the whispered symphony
of melodies unheard and dreams untold. The universe breathes through notes written in starlight,
echoing against the walls of time.
A canvas where sound paints the visage of eternity.
Deja vu drifts like morning mist, between the lines of a story waiting to be told.
The foggy tendrils grasp at memories not yet lived, a cycle unbroken
by the space between your hands reaching out and what is real.
Beneath the surface of this whispered concerto, lies the secretive melody that binds us all. A note, a breath, a heartbeat — all synchronized in a dance older than time itself.