In the pallid light of the moonlit eve, where shadows sing softly upon the surface of the soul, whispers of ancient tales linger. It is here you find a realm caught in the amber of time, where nothing threatens, and nothing endures.
The rivulets of thoughts flow slowly, each droplet a memory soaked in mist, wrapped in silk fine as despair. Listen closely, for silence carries the weight of broken promises and forgotten joys, chained to the past yet fleeter than the unhurried breeze.
Shall we dance between the spheres of light and shadow? Or remain in the rivulets where tranquil waters cradle our thunderstorms? Embrace the unknown by following the whispers that pass through every leaf like an elegy.
Time, a fractured mirror casting reflections of what was and what will never be...