In a trembling ether devoid of the linearity of clocks, where redolent whispers commute between the folds of light and shadow, I etch these reflections on shimmering filaments of time— To you, soulbound in a dimension's embrace.
Stars are the languages, silent letters of the nocturnal prose. When I stand upon the precipice of dreams, yielding to the cosmic choreography, your resonance wraps around my consciousness, tender and palpable.
Have you paused to listen beneath the chromatic auroras skying your reality, where the dissonant harmonies of universes converge and diverge, much like the symphony written by hearts entwined across infinite threads?
Let our echoes find sanctuary amid the static of celestial echoes, binding fragmented moments into intricate tapestries of understanding— a weaving that transcends the silent boundaries of veiled realms.
Await me in the twilight edges, at the confluence of intangible waves, and perhaps we shall decipher the patterns inscribed by reflection, — particularly elusive signals that persist beyond intermit Cosmion fading.
Return to Dreamtide's Curves