In the silken shadows of an unmarked dawn,
the melodies from Orion's garden sway gently,
a symphony of stars unfurling stories untold.
Elara, the ethereal minstrel,
strums her lyre woven from the dreams of lonesome comets,
casting spellbound notes through the velvet veil of night.
Here, time bends with the grace of memory,
each hour a brushstroke on the canvas of eternity,
creating realms where laughter drips like dew on twilight roses.
As above, so below, but in reverent whispers.
The trees, familiar yet strange, hum in octaves
as vines cradle secrets of galaxies not thought of yet.