Exist whispers like forgotten rain under the cloak of the midnight shawl, edging on the familiar sighs of stars hidden beneath.
Can you hear it? The pulse, the gentle arc of timelessness colliding with ephemeral dreams... sparkling with depth unknown.
Below lies the stream along which no foot have marked passage, beneath azure voices whispering winter's songs.
Touch the silk ribbon of fate woven with stardust, recklessly guiding the wandering sleeper.
Are you awake? Another question dissolves like a mist in celestial hands...