In the tapestry woven of starlight and shadows, where whispers of aeons pass, we stand, untethered.
"Each echo, a fragment of eternity, dancing on the edge of silence, yearning to be heard."
Through the corridors of forgotten dreams,
a symphony of echoes calls,
not of this world, nor any other.
The celestial dialogues,
a language without tongue,
etched upon the fabric of night.