The whispers of morning dew linger, suspended in a time yet unfold. Echoes of laughter dart in the shades of steel sunset, weaving remnants of a season once known.
Between the lines of the sky, dreams trace futures they too forget, like marooned vessels on timeless seas.
Patterns whisper beneath the veil of ages, pawing at the forgotten harvests of light, as shadows embrace the cradle of night.
Wander Further in the Echoes Dance with the Forgotten Whispers