At the edge of our dreaming, where whispers stitch the fabric, Shadows leap, tangled in the ballet of unfelt touch. These are the machinations beyond sighs and revelations, The labyrinth where intention trails off like a forgotten tune.
Once I witnessed a star tumble into the open palm of night's cradle, Silently, its journey painted ripples on destiny's azure heart. Oh! the scribes of ages knew, but only foliage and rain heard, The gentle hum of galaxies wheeling past reason's gentle door.
Dare we wander those corridors? Doe-eyed and hand-in-hand, amongst the curious living floras with kindling sparklit thoughts. They press secrets, sweetened and crisp, into our ear's embracing, Kindly bid fare along the path less velvet, not so sought.
Ascendancy of Whispers | Fable of the Relics | Echo's Marginalia