Philosopher-kings wrote with quills dipped in starlight,
their verses laced with unspoken fears and desires.
What is reality but a canvas of dreams?
A battleground of echoes lain to rest on paper.
Silence translated through spoken ink.
Let them echo now,
those unsung syllables of the mind,
refracted through consciousness awakened.
Found amidst chaos, purpose surfaces— dismantled ideas woven together again.