Through the weft of stars, whispers call, an echo from ancient strings, unraveling secrets only the silken night knows.
Was it not through dreams that the Great Weaver spun the cosmos? In every strand, a nebula dances, and every knot: a soul entwined.
On frequencies lost, the moon hums a melody yearning for ears that once listened beside the fires of forgotten ages.
There are paths not traced on maps, yet in the gossamer web of woven ether, truth threads itself through the vibrations of stars.
Be silent and tread lightly, for the loom speaks in murmurs only decipherable to those in communion with the woven night.
Knowledge lost to sunlit shores swims within this tapestry, waiting for the hand that dares to untie its secrets.