In the deep silence of the night, a golden crescent is caged, like a piece of sky caught and preserved. It is the moon in my dream, that rests in silent captivity. The darkness breathes around it, enveloping it in velvet shadows. There is no wind, no singing wings, only the silence of longing. The gold shimmers softly, whispering of distant horizons, of untouched skies, of the moment when the silence will finally open and a dream will soar.
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