In the obscure corners of the mind,
where whispers congeal into shadows,
uni-faced entities weave their kaleidoscopic web,
stitching dreams with threads of midnight silence.
Here, the broken faces of your long-lost ancients
peer through the mist of time's embrace,
leaving hollow echoes
on cobblestones unseen beneath the age-old light of past stars.
They say their names are whispered in ink tones unrelatable,
imprinted onto sails that brush against cotton clouds in high dawn,
solidifying as unseen horizons await beyond dreambound mornings.