"Our voices blend," whispered the unseen rhythm. The melody threaded wires between worlds, binding laughter with tears — nothing less, seemingly artless, indefinitely remembered.
When nocturnes fade, stars synchronize aubade. Is there truth beyond this transitory fog or just a plaint that drifts whispering?
Ciphers and glyphs mime an understanding, an agreement lost before the dawn. Nature abhors vacuity thus we create devastation calendars.
Curved silently between celestial peripheries, we seek — extending azure limbs, waiting for harmonic astral congruity.
Such eternal messages reside idly, dispersed as fragments of a dream unraveling destiny: