Piningit

It was as if an ancient temple suddenly echoed electronically. The air trembles with something more than just a melody - it's a spell whispered by ancestors and intertwined with the pulse of the new century. The voice doesn't come from the throat, but from the depths of the earth, where time slowly turns its gears. In every line, there is humility before the world, in every chord, its power. Everything moves slowly, like breathing after prayer: heavy at first, then calm. And suddenly it becomes clear that enlightenment isn't a flash, but a soft light that simply doesn't want to fade away.