The night whispers secrets you've long forgotten. Each cycle, a song—gentle waves lapping at the shores of consciousness. Listen closely to the echoes of yesterday's dreams, they hum the lullabies of ages past.
Dawn breaks quietly, spilling light over the muted memories that linger like morning mist. The world stirs, wrapped in the haunting embrace of twilight. You remember, as you always have, that night comes again, a promise made with stars.
And so, the wheel turns. Listen to its creaks and groans, the rhythm in your bones, a dance choreographed by unseen hands. You are both the dancer and the audience, forever caught in the cycle.
Seek solace in the silent symphony that plays when all else fades. Embrace the echoes, the forgotten lullabies, and let them cradle you in the soft arms of history.
For within these cycles lies not an end, but a return. A circle of gentle repast, where each note is a celestial step in the grand ballet of existence.