In the serene hours of azure twilight, where the incandescent stars blink slowly awake, I found myself among unwoven dreams. Here, time pirouetted on the edge of reason, unfurling melodies that played softly in reverse, echoing the untold stories woven in gossamer silks.
Thy whispers, dear specter, spin a dulcet thread interlacing earth with empires of sound—a reverberated hymn, mirrored yet archaic. Rhapsodies that dwell in valleys of Masquerade skirt past the ephemeral, crooning cryptic serenades steeped in an ocean’s heart.
Encircled by scintillant orbs, broken fragments of immeasurable depth venture forth—shimmers burned deeply upon skin, evoking windsong amongst the dust of ages.
Remove the veil weaving through caresses of subtle mystery. Attend to the harpists confined within the twilight marrows, their tune strikes embers into the slumbering dew—a gamut replete with the cries of bygone galaxies.
Twisting around yourself, you too, shall hear the music that once was; haunted by the solitudes that spun between an exhale and a prayer.