Adrift beneath the shiver of starlight's hush, we find veils spun from twilight. Each filament, a memory of meteoric whispers, weaves through slumber's vast arena. Do they dare to unveil the cosmic truth, those persistent estranged echoes of night?
Echoes fall like meteoral sediment across our pondering thoughts, cascading an astral shower upon predetermined crescendos. Whatever flew here below now finds itself desire-laden, bound to invisible strings hung by forgotten dreams.
Secret Journeys