Beneath the whispering canopy of stars,
Where shadows knit tapestries of twilight,
I scribble in the sand with fingertips azure,
Breathing life into letters unbound by time.
"Hark," murmurs the moon, a faithful sentinel,
Her gleam a silken thread weaving truth from dreams.
I am a wind-carried echo, swirling, twirling,
Dancing with the dust of forgotten realms.
The voices call—
“Listen, oh wayward traveler, to the symphony of silence.”
In the hushed reverie of spectral glow,
I find constellations blooming within petals of night.
Lay your ears upon the ground,
Feel the heartbeat of this earthbound lore.
For every sigh the world exhaled,
Has etched a story upon a wanderer's soul.
A solitary lantern flickers in the abyss,
Guarding secrets wrapped in ethereal mist.
Follow the path lined with echoing serenades;
The dawn awaits, painting verses anew.
Venture further, beyond the realm's tender grasp,
Find solace in the lyric of the void.
The universe weaves its hymn,
And you, dear traveler, are the quivering string.