The silence hangs upon the slopes of a forgotten moon, silent craters hold the breath of time. Memories hang, light as frost upon shadow, and the dark fixes them with a cold lens. Every memory is a sail without sea, a page that will never be read. The forgotten moon breathes stardust, and silence counts the steps that will not return. Should anyone pass by, listen to this quiet weight: the silence is an extinguished lantern that does not yield. On the slopes remains a voiceless memory, but shines in the darkness like a small light.