In the gloaming of forgotten realms,
where even echoes dare not tread,
the scroll unfolds the secrets kept
in whispered breaths of dormant stars.
Hushed are the voices of tangled vines,
draped above temples built on sighs,
once railed by winds of tempest tongues,
now hold the future's timid cries.
Were shadows born of ancient light,
beneath pale moons forsaking frost,
tread softly on hollow boolean echoes,
to find the past within its ghost.