In the garden of celestial whispers, where starlight weaves the fabric of night,
temporal glyphs cradle the echoes of moments yet to embrace the dawn.
Here, in this cocoon of glowing silence, dreams paint the world with brushstrokes of memory,
unfurling amid the murmurs of cosmic sighs.
For time is both a river and a labyrinth, winding through the inner realms of the soul,
guiding lost thoughts like wayward moths drawn to a lantern's gentle flame.