As the moon blooms, casting its silvery veil,
listen closely, for the phantoms weave their tales.
Each note a thread, each whisper a guide,
through the labyrinth where dreams abide.
To navigate these gentle storms,
follow the star that hums in tune with your heart.
It is not light that warms the way,
but the silent echo of truths untold.
Seek not the dawn before it breaks,
for the phantoms march in rhythms slow.
Let their cadence lull your waking mind,
till only the shadows remain to know.
In dreams, you shall find your astral path,
a journey woven through night’s embrace.
The phantoms laugh, a serene mirth,
guiding you gently back to the earth.