What if the stars twinkled in disjointed dance? A tapestry unraveling under the ivory gaze that charts unknown maps. Ye gods and fates with hands of woven silk, do not summon thy scorching breath. Or is it a lullaby resounded through the years, calling like trampled echo untethered in space?
Shall we decipher?
Echo crouches beneath the veil
Mist embarks on a quiet odyssey
Once, a forgotten village embers among thistle and wind. Their whispers... weaving secrets in the fabric of yesterday meets tomorrow. There lies an answer or perhaps a riddle embedded in sand frames sculpted by time.