Beneath the quilt of stars, a hum, an unspoken story untold, woven in silence's breath. The moon whispers secrets to the wind, a lullaby sang in the shadows of dreams. Fingers trace the outlines of constellations, composing symphonies in the void, notes unvoiced yet profoundly alive.
Midnight reveries, echoes of laughter ripple through the cosmos. A child’s voice, soft as the mist, calling the stars by name. They listen, attentive like old friends, as the melody of time weaves through them, a tapestry of moments caught in the cycle of night and day.
Rustling leaves carry the memory of dawn, the promise of light lingering just beyond the horizon. Time dances, unhurried, a gentle waltz in the backdrop of existence. Every beat a heartbeat, resonating with the pulse of unseen worlds, where stories sleep, waiting to be dreamed awake.
The symphony is a lullaby, a whisper—listen closely, and you might catch its refrain in the sigh of the sea, the rustle of ancient trees, or the quiet trickle of a distant stream.
Travel Beyond the Stars