The whisper passes over, through clouds of a lost dream, a ticking revealed to the wind, the rhythm of sleeping times. A light dance among the breezes, abandoning traces of memory, a heart that calls for silence, among the folds of forgotten time. The stars listen to its song, a minute tremor of eternity, a melody written in nothingness, that brushes the lost soul. And when the dream dissolves, remains the breath of that moment, a whisper that grazes the void, the rhythm of a forgotten heart.