O gentle zephyrs, with your languid serenades,
Carry whispers wrapped in ribbons spun of stars,
Through the galaxy's symphony, ripeness speaks in sighs.
In the planar shift of abstract aeons, the cosmos hums a song unheard,
Melodies of heartstrings intertwined with the fabric of time itself.
Let each inversion unveil a tapestry interwoven with desires.
Contemplate, if you will the inverted cone of solitude,
Where light descends as soft murmurs caress the moon's visage.
It's here where lucidity blurs under the cosmos' tender embraces.