In the gentle cradle of moonlit shadows,
lies the tapestry of unseen murmurs,
woven softly with threads of ancient silence.
Beneath the velvet cosmos, their echoes bloom,
tender whispers, both beneficial and perilous,
like the kiss of a tempestuous breeze.
Herein a realm where time doth dissolve,
crystalline voices spin tales of yore;
hearken to the tales of emerald stars,
their songs are the shadows of nebulous dreams,
alike to the resonant sigh of a forgotten lullaby.
Enigma dwells within the breath of these dreams,
fragile like the gossamer of the dawn's soft mist,
clinging to the edges of reality like whispers
trapped within the fragile skein of twilight.
Listen close, lest you lose the melody,
for in every note lies a universe unseen.
The stars spin, ever watchful, ever wise,
their arcs a testament to the boundless night;
they whisper secrets of life and death,
of beginnings that tread the edge of endings.
The light falters in the embrace of dreams,
casting shadows that dance upon the void.