In the sepulchral embrace of twilight, whispers dance beneath the surface of forgotten seas.
Twined in the verdant growth that blankets time, an echo plays—a solitary refrain of yesteryears.
The moon hangs, a sentinel of silver dreams, above a path once trodden by shadowed feet.
Gentle are the sighs of hidden voices, woven into the fabric of azure dusk's embrace.
Upon the wind's breath, an anecdote drifts, unbound and free, a story untold yet familiar in its trace.