Whispers twist through evening air, elongating fragments of light, a resonance—
There, at the threshold, echoes flutter amongst the shadows, dormant secrets alive in silence.
The silence breathes, consumed by afterglow.
Veils of time unravel, like echoes brushing against waning dreams,
As the spectral dance illuminates the stillness within.
"The stars are mirrors, unmapped. What truths spiral with these soft sighs?"