Beneath the shadows of sleeping constellations,
ancient whispers murmur in the undercurrent of dreams.
A tapestry of forgotten echoes unrolls,
threads of existence woven with threadbare truths.
In the twilit corridors of this ethereal sanctuary,
fossilized thoughts lie entombed, waiting to be unearthed.
With each silent footfall, the ground trembles,
revealing relics of moments that dare not be spoken.
"Do you hear the silence that sings?" whispers the specter.
"It is a language of shadows, a song of the unseen."