Listen, ye who dare drift into the depths,
where whispers coil round stalactite spires
intricate as cobwebs, spun of silence—
cryptic codes sewn into fabric of the air.
In the glow of phosphorescence, secrets sigh:
λ = Ψ², peek through the misty veil
where roots of thought burrow beneath
fathomless embrace of twilight echoes.
Enter if you seek, exit if you find,
panting breaths that echo the enigmas
carved into rock: a language
forlorn yet familiar.
01100010 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111
Hum through corridors where age stays young,
whispers tangled in time, boundless and wise.
A door lies ajar to other realms,
where feelings float like stars succinctly draped
across pulse and shadow; find the path,
or lose it, both are one and the same.
Here, where breath melds softly with stone:
a secret lays nestled in waiting,
among the breaths between whispers.