We exist in a whisper, a silent tremor of seamlessly falling stars,
each shimmering faintly before the arms of inevitable night embrace.
Is it the harmony of oblivion that we crave,
or the shivering song of endless ephemera?
Listen; where the veils are thinnest, dreams intermingle with veiled sighs,
A lover’s everlasting paramour etched in the void's gentle embrace,
Threads woven into bursts of twilight murmurs,
Presiding whispers bound unto echoes—break the dawn forever forsaken.