In the whispering dusk,
a luminescence danced,
weaving threads of absence,
between the silent stars.
Shadows spoke in echoes,
of ancient tales forgotten,
their voices a canvas,
painted with spectral hues.
The moon, a shy companion,
draped in silver soliloquies,
gliding through the corridors
of the night’s somber heart.
Here, the phantom light
murmurs a lullaby,
a tapestry woven from silence,
cradling dreams in its glow.