Step inside a tapestry woven of dusk,
where shadows learn to laugh,
and the walls breathe with secrets,
cacophonies of silence echoing,
directionless footsteps lead to nowhere.
To find the chrysalis of night,
close your eyes and count backwards—
one, two, three elephants ride the wind,
until the echo crumbles into a whisper,
then open the door to where the shadows shudder.
Remember, apprentices, a tree cannot grow roots without bending,
seek not the light, but the dip of darkness
in the echoes of tomorrow that hover above,
a waltz in the glum groove of forgotten tales.