In the whisper of the unturned page,
they spoke—voices adrift on the ether,
weaving tapestries from forgotten dreams,
each thread an echo of existence.
Shadows dance beneath the pale moon,
where creatures of light once roamed free,
their laughter a chorus of crystalline tones,
now but a memory trapped in the void.
Release them, they beseech the stars,
with hands outstretched in silent supplication,
for the language of the cosmos is written here,
in the space between breaths and the pause of time.