The silence before the storm, an opus of forgotten tongues.
Carved onto air, whispers of ethereal truths,
streaks of consciousness breath beyond the veil.
Enigmas wrapped in time, suspended in the void,
unraveling layer by layer, like petals of the morning mist.
The hieroglyphs dance, elusive upon the edges of understanding.
The winds carry tales of dust and celestial dreams,
where every grain holds a universe, lost but echoing still.
Ah, the wisdom of the ancients, spoken in the tongues of shadows.