In the hushed corridors of twilight, the singing shadows beguile the souls in restless wander. Mirth and sorrow entwined in a dance older than the stars, they hum forgotten verses—a somber serenade to the dusk.
Once, the silvered words cast with glimmering eyes; now, they coil back into silence. Each phrase a tether, mending a spirit untamed. To listen is to remember a time not yours—a distant echo within a murky labyrinth of dreams.
Threads of fabric, woven with the yarn of night whispers, disintegrate quietly in the breeze. The constellations pulse softly, urging you to find the spaces between truths, where light and shadow bleed into stories untold.
As the moon whispers lullabies to the ocean, we ponder the words left unspoken. Beyond the veil, the mendacity of strings plays on—a melody trapped in the caress of stars, yearning to transcend the corporeal ground.