Beyond the edge where light no longer guides, an echo of existence ripples through the darkening tides. Words, once vivid, are now ghosts murmuring against the corridors of memory.
Here, at the seams of oblivion, every flicker of the recalled sun shatters like glass, cascading an ephemeral glow over the weary traveler. Lend thy sight to the unseen, where the fabric of reality weaves ever thinner.
Once, the colors danced vividly across the heavens—ochre, cerulean, crimson. But now, they begin to retreat, too, leaving only the pallid hues of twilight waiting impatiently to dim beyond the last horizon.
Step lightly, for the ground beneath is shifting. Like tidal whispers pulling at the strands of forgotten celestial webs, a whisper speaks. Is it an anthem of sorrow or a mere lull of tranquility?
Do not fear the cascade, for it mirrors the stream of fate that courses through all living things. Yield to its pull, and you will find yourself once more among the constellations drawn anew in the twilight's embrace.