Oft have I stood, the linchpin between worlds unseen:
A rusty gate, caged in ivy's tender grasp,
Whispers of the night's shadows spill over my hinges.
Secrets of wandering spirits, the salt of sea winds,
Dares to echo within me, trapped forever in tales untold.
Do you not hear the cries of old wood?
The forgotten keys of solace, clumped in the grip of time.
Each lock a heart, each crevice a memory;
Secrets poured by the rain.
Oh, what stories of realms unseen, yet so eerily close,
Only to those who dare to listen, beneath the rust and the ivy's embrace.
Behold, the stone arch, weathered yet proud,
Sings not with voice but through the passage of restless breezes.
Secrets of marble and granite, stained with the whispers of eternity,
Like an open book with leaves turned by the hands of time.
Did you know of my existence, beneath the churning sands?
The echoes of portals, hidden beneath the earth...
I have stood, watching the dance of stars in the sky,
While the world turns, oblivious, beneath a shroud of dreams.
Listen, for the secrets of the gates are but a breath away:
A gentle murmur that speaks of ancient lore,
Treasures scattered across forgotten realms of the mind.
Would you dare to pass through?
To touch the veil of whispers and sighs that ©ripple across dimensions?
Or remain here, a passerby, your ears deaf to the ancient song?
Explore more: Archives of Inanition | Portals of the Labyrinthine