The night spoke, rendered in shades of greyed whispers and shimmering echoes. Shadows danced under the veil of twilight, where the moon wrapped its cold arms around the earth's weary shoulders.
We are reflections refracted through the prism of stardust. Mapping dreams onto maps, the lines blur at the edges, spiraling inwards like an infinite conch shell. Listen, they say—it hums a forgotten tune.
Echoes of alien seas wash upon familiar shores, tidal waves of thought crashing into consciousness, leaving lunar footprints on a sunlit mind. The moon smiles, and we howl, unwitting marionettes to its stringless symphony.
What burns yet freezes? The paradox tickles, a riddle wearing the cloak of a straightforward gaze. The sun and moon dance a duet of cosmic separation, yet here on earth, their harmony cradles chaos and order alike.
Lunar lunacy—the tides of reason pulled by the silent goddess. Somewhere, the stars blink knowingly, and somewhere else, stories spin themselves into being amidst the shadows and moonlight.