As the whispering mists recede, unveil the arcane silhouette of the path.
Here, the helix unwinds itself – a map not carved, but dreamt.
From the elder trees, a sigh of knowing descends...
Thus begins the dance of the unseen, the rite of light’s threshold.
In chambers adorned with thread and shadow, echoes cradle the past.
Resolute hands trace symbols in the air, each a facet of hidden truth.
The heart of the labyrinth beats; slow, deliberate –
What is forgotten sings, what is lost weaves anew.
So chant the veils, so sway the stars; alignment of fate, of time –
The initiate steps forth, adorned in silks of solitude.
With eyes closed, they paint the wind, a tapestry of sacred geometry.
Threads of light enmesh the soul.
Beyond thresholds unknown, where the golden amulet rests,
Lies the hidden pool – an oasis of reflection, not of the body,
But of the unseen realms, where the veiled ones speak.
Their song, a constellation, bizarre and adorned with the dew of stars.
Breach of dawn, slumber of dusk – the cycle perpetual.
From the misted margins, a figure steps forth, crowned with clarity.
All diagrams converge, all paths align,
In the sanctity of silence, the true rite begins anew.