In the weave of the cosmos, lies the cryptic music. Little murmurs wrapped in silver threads, waiting.
Shattered footsteps, echo softly. Listen closely.
Secrets tied lightly to the fabric of sleep. The stars hum softly; the sky winks.
Only the wise linger at the doorway of shadows.
In twilight’s clutch, songbirds wore silver crowns of yesteryear.
Echoes of voices lost, now angels without wings.
What tale sings beneath the known skin of this Earth?
Return to the Whispering Skies | Enter the Bright Dawn