Shadows cast by the moon's sigh
elusive traces on the parchment of night
where silent ink murmurs stories untold.
Time's tapestry weaves stars in lucent dreams,
each thread an echo of footsteps lost in the deep.
Listen, for they hum the songs of solitude.
Beneath the surface,
whispers slip through like invisible streams,
tracing lines against the current of reverie.
When dawn breaks,
the ink will fade,
but its echo shall linger on the edge of existence.