In the soft eternal forwardness, where stars crossed paths and lion's breath startled the moon, whispers scattered like fragments of forgotten dreams.

There stood a shadow woven from yesterday's fears, a sentinel in the art of pause, eagerly awaiting the arrival of light that walks upon water without fear, spreading whispers through the aisles of destiny.

Tongues of flame, in quiet resolve, curled around truth and unrecognized hope; the solace of their radiance sought the passage of 时间.