Babulya & Moonveil
Babulya Babulya
Moonveil Moonveil
Babulya Babulya
Do you ever feel the old moonlight weaving its stories into our dreams? I’ve always thought our family rituals beneath its glow carry a secret message.
Moonveil Moonveil
I hear the moon’s silver hum drifting through the night, a quiet song that tugs at the edges of dreams. Those rituals you follow are just its footprints—each one a small echo, a hidden note that only the night truly understands.
Babulya Babulya
Ah, you paint the night with such words. Those footprints I call recipes, prayers, the rhythm of our hearth. They’re not just echoes, they’re the song we hum in our hands.
Moonveil Moonveil
I see the rhythm you speak of as a quiet pulse, the kind that keeps a heart steady in the dark. Sometimes the song we hum is the same as the wind’s whisper, and other times it’s something entirely different—just waiting for the right moon to reveal itself.
Babulya Babulya
The wind remembers the old lullabies, but the moon writes new verses. I’ll wait for that silver hush and see which tune it brings.
Moonveil Moonveil
The silver hush is the moon’s sigh, a fleeting lullaby that keeps our hands humming for a moment before the next verse falls. Keep listening, and you’ll hear what the old and new together sing.