In the silence of the forgotten melodies, where shadows of the stars linger.
The echo of ancients speaks in dreams of silver rain.
Upon the sands of time, grains resounding, stories etched in light and dark.
Here, the whispers tell tales of woven paths untaken.
Rivers of thought, flowing through misty corridors of what was,
A gossamer truth unraveling silently beneath eternal skies.
The dawn, a canvas of past echoes, tinged with hues of forgotten sighs.
It is here the legacy breathes, in the soft embrace of evening stars.