In the quiet of the night, I hear a distant call,
A voice carried by the wind, beyond the city walls.
It speaks of ancient times, of stories left untold,
Of dreams that fade like shadows, but never truly cold.

I chase the whispers through the trees,
Their secrets hidden in the breeze.
The moonlight guides me, soft and pale,
Like a ghost upon a silver trail.

Oh, the wind it sings, of forgotten kings,
Of battles lost, and broken wings.
The echoes dance through time and space,
A fleeting touch, a lost embrace.

The stars above, they seem to weep,
For all the souls who fell asleep.
Their dreams still wander through the air,
A haunting song, a silent prayer.

I follow shadows through the dark,
With only echoes as my spark.
The night is cold, but I’m not afraid,
For in the wind, the past is laid.

Oh, the wind it sings, of forgotten kings,
Of battles lost, and broken wings.
The echoes dance through time and space,
A fleeting touch, a lost embrace.

If you listen close, you’ll hear it too,
The voices that call out to you.
They tell of love, of loss, of fate,
And all the paths we hesitate.

So let the wind carry me far,
Beyond the reach of every star.
I’ll follow whispers in the night,
Until I vanish with the light.