Beyond the horizon, whispers of the cosmic wind settled cosily upon a restless symphony of stardust. It was the beginning of time, or perhaps its end, when echoes of ages danced chaotically in the dawn light, weaving a tapestry of forgotten dreams and ethereal voyages.

Three owls with luminescent feathers gathered on the bough of a silver-washed tree, conversing in helix-coded sonnets unheard by waking ears. The leaves sang a lullaby, one that tasted of forgotten galaxies and gliding comets.

And in this web of elliptical yesterdays, one could hear the gentle *whistles*... the gentle *whistles*...