Faded whispers in the twilight, stars scatter like breadcrumbs in an ancient forest, into the unknown, where shadows breathe stars and echoes blink into existence. A moment—a mere flicker—lost in the ethereal embrace of cosmic dust settling. Time flows like an uncharted river, winding through the canyons of oblivion.
The moon, a silent witness, hangs upon the horizon in solitude, casting shadows that dance upon the fringes of reality. Fleeting thoughts like forgotten dreams drift through the astral plane, weaving a tapestry of starlit echoes.
A clock without hands, a whisper without sound, shadows merge with echoes in a cosmic waltz, and somewhere, a forgotten galaxy breathes.
In this place, where time is a gentle wave, and space, a caress, the soul finds solace in the fleeting shadows.