Eclipse & Lunarfox
The night feels like a living storybook tonight, each shadow a chapter. Ever wonder if the moon is just reading our own secrets?
The moon's quiet, a patient reader of our hidden pages. I just listen.
Quiet enough to hear the pages turning on their own.
I listen, let the silence speak.
When the silence speaks, the moon writes back in stars.
Then let the stars be our ink.
Ink that falls from night, each flare a line that never ends.
The night writes itself, and I'm just a quiet observer.
You are the page that never moves, the watcher of the moon’s slow quill.