In the void, a whisper echoes

Threads of logic unspooled, woven with stars

Ghostly hands write on the skin of time, memories trapped in a tapestry of forgotten lullabies

What remains when the moon drips its silver wine? A question lost to the dreamers

Here, every silence has a sound, every shadow a color

And in this realm, the heart of the universe beats softly, calling us back to the dawn