In the weaving dusk of an untouched past,
whispers trace the contours of forgotten dreams.
Echoes merge, diverge,
forming a mosaic of silent symphonies.
A whisper once was a song,
sung in a language of stars,
now lost to the waves of time.
Fragments of these melodies,
drift across the cosmic sea,
waiting for ears that remember.
The symmetry unfolds,
revealing secrets in the folds of eternity.
Contours of moments,
etched into the fabric of now and then.