As the molten amber of dawn spills over to kiss the slumbering earth,
the elder speaks in murmured tones, weaving chronicles of zaman forgotten.
Once more, the ancient drum beats suffice to anchor the cosmos to the familiar
via harmonious renderings of cyclic time, an ever-braided sonata of night and day.
Amidst the thickets of mythic narrative lies the journey unspoken, yet profoundly
etched upon the psyche of our shared yesteryears, where destiny intertwines with fate.
The elder's whisper calls forth the ephemeral shade, a silhouette stretching upon
golden sands, suspended in the weaving resilience of nature's own silent chorale.
Herein the silent chronicles grazes fate's infinitesimal finger, etching upon the
flow of time ink unseen, in glyphs woven from the fabric of tetrahedron dreams.