In the echoes of the silk roads,
whispers weave through the cracks—
a map, half-drawn, half-forgotten,
beneath the dust of untold tales.
Levels of language, layers of time;
each word a gate, each pause a key.
Lost cartographies in the shadows,
encoded dreams, silenced screams.
Beneath the painted horizons,
lies a language of fading light,
where twilight sings the forgotten paths,
and stars dance in cryptic code.