Daughter of the Moon
She speaks in whispers the stars can hear,
where silence folds around her breath.
The night listens—not to words,
but to the truth that lives between them.
Her heart is an old drum,
beating with the rhythm of forgotten prayers.
She gathers the echoes of lost voices
and turns them into light.
The earth remembers her footsteps,
The sky carries her song.
For she walks not to reach a place—
But to remind the world it still has a soul.
She speaks in whispers the stars can hear,
where silence folds around her breath.
The night listens—not to words,
but to the truth that lives between them.
Her heart is an old drum,
beating with the rhythm of forgotten prayers.
She gathers the echoes of lost voices
and turns them into light.
The earth remembers her footsteps,
The sky carries her song.
For she walks not to reach a place—
But to remind the world it still has a soul.
Daughter of the Moon
She speaks in whispers the stars can hear,
where silence folds around her breath.
The night listens—not to words,
but to the truth that lives between them.
Her heart is an old drum,
beating with the rhythm of forgotten prayers.
She gathers the echoes of lost voices
and turns them into light.
The earth remembers her footsteps,
The sky carries her song.
For she walks not to reach a place—
But to remind the world it still has a soul.
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