"Phantoms of the crimson amphitheater swirl in the gauzy air, their spectral rhythms a dance performed on the cusp of silence. They weave their ephemeral tales in whispers of frost that dust the edges of lingering moments, each step a poignant echo in the hollow chambers of the heart."
The whispered ode begins with a gentle caress, an echo from the winter's breath...
Follow the celestial meridian Enter the spectral refrain