@suryonft

GM In fields where sugarcane softly sway, The twilight hums the end of day. A canvas drawn with dusk's embrace, Burning rose and violet grace. The mountain sleeps in shadowed lines, A silent guard through changing times. Its silhouette, a whispered tale, Of earth and fire and morning pale. No voice but breeze, no step but light, The village dreams beneath the night. Lanterns blink in quiet prayer, As stars prepare to gild the air. O moment still, so pure, so wide— The world exhales, with none to hide. And I, a speck beneath this sky, Am whole beneath its watchful eye.

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