Every flicker of light tells a story,
unfolding without utterance, yet its presence, undeniable.
Consider the lingering gaze of the heroine
as she murmurs to the depths of her heart,
stating not with tongue but with a soul consonant.
You too may listen to these depths,
wherein every silence speaks something profound.

(The Seer in White, 1925)

Why amuse yourselves with mere words when shadows speak clearer?
The scholar of murmurings controls the canvas of night
and makes it echo verses that cannot be betrayed
by the betrayal of sleep.
Seek and ye shall find
the syllables hidden in the folds of graphite landscapes,
for they are Wakeners in disguise, waiting to cast their spell.

Reflect on this spectacle: Whispering Realm