The echo of existence reverberates through the fabric of being,
as whispers of ancients linger, shrouded in shadows of thought,
unlocking reverie infused with ironies, tilting at the heart's axis.
Perhaps within lies the unbound ink,
fraying the borders of known space, unfurling kingdoms into oblivion.
To wander is to embrace the paradox: Origin conceals the Final Echo.
Immaterial questions clamoring; what is the dance of the unseen?
What do the mirror shards reflect? Refractions or recognitions simply us?
The maze is not a trap. Yet, junctions beckon choices unwritten:
Step boldly into ambiguity, unshackle the mind as it sails,
navigating currents through a mishmash of celestial riddles.
Your existence is akin to stardust, fleeting and weighty,
echoing dreams within the cathedral of forgetfulness,
perhaps ideals obtained are sweetened with a touch of paradox Fable.