In the land of ever-pulsating fields, the moments weave tapestries upon her shoulders. Dreams do not walk freely here, yet their paths draw rivers.

Darkness speaks in echoes, and pauses hear whispers wrongfully unheard. Closures harbor endless beginnings, through windows shaped like half-forgotten oaths.

Think as you wander: "What is beyond the horizon's daring edge?" Yet remain calm, burdened by none, only lightly rocked by the waking stars.