Beyond the horizon, where silence breathes tales untold,
shadows weave realms of echoes and whispers of gold.
In the folds of mist, the fabric of time becomes threadbare,
secrets unspoken float on currents of midnight air.
The arcane scripts, a syntax of forgotten dreams,
unravel in the quiet hum of ethereal beams.
Follow the path through the mist and illusion,
heed the footfalls, the voiceless conclave's communion.
Touch the invisible, let the particles dance,
in the synapse, the universe's trance.