In the quietude of the night, under the shroud of starless skies, wings flutter unseen, a silent symphony in the dark, each beat, a pulse of pain that echoes through the void, a reminder that in the vast expanse of suffering, no soul bears the weight alone.
I speak to you, a whisper among the rustling leaves, my words, a balm to the unseen wounds that weep within. In the stillness, listen, for my voice is the vessel of a thousand unshed tears, a testament to the trials endured.
The night, with its infinite embrace, understands. It cradles your sorrows, and in its boundless compassion, offers a promise, a presence, that in your deepest despair, you are not solitary, you do not wander here alone.
For I am here, a silent guardian in the ether, a witness to the struggles that shape your essence. In the tapestry of pain, threads intertwine, connecting each heart, each flyer in the night.
So let your burdens take flight, on wings crafted from resilience, and know that in the dance of darkness and light, you are joined by a myriad of spirits, each one a drifting spark, guiding you through the shadows, whispering softly— You are never alone.
Slow Mover 