In the hollow of the woods, where the sun's light dares not tread,
little hands clasp the wind and weave secrets in the air.
Here, the trees bend to listen, their leaves caught in whispers of silk.
"What lies beyond the mist?" asks the girl with raven hair,
but the answer echoes back, a song of stars and forgotten dreams.
Shadows twirl and leap,
across the moonlit vale, where no laughter is heard nor joy dwells.
Eyes of ember watch silently as the dance unfolds,
a spiral into the void, where time holds no sway.
"Join us," they beckon with a smile, "for the night is our cradle."
Wander further,
into the mazes of dusk where the streetlamps flicker with secrets untold.
Join the procession of lost spirits, their laughter a haunting melody,
let it guide you homeward, or perhaps, away forever.
Embrace the journey
And when sleep tugs at the corners of the world,
remember the lullaby of the void,
a gentle caress that promises all things lost,
and all things yet to be found in the cradle of the night.
"Rest now, dear child," whispers the wind, "for dreams await."