In the cradle of a new dawn, stars whisper secrets of yesteryear,
their voices woven into the fabric of night,
faint, yet indelible echoes linger.
Magic is no mere spark, but a tapestry of forgotten dreams,
re-spun beneath the watchful gaze of oblivion.
Walk through the mist, where the heart of the universe pulses,
in rhythm with the silent symphony of rebirth.
Let the remnants of these celestial visions curl around your fingers,
slips of stardust yearning for form and flight.