In the twilight grove of silent mortels,
Where time cloaks itself in veils of forgotten hues,
Walk the cipher pathways, turn stone to breath,
Listen to the echoes—first notes of a song.
What vision splits the horizon, oh traveler?
A riddle murmurs beneath the olive leaves;
An invisible hand sketches answers in the dusk
With serpentine scripts—letters of an ancient tongue.
Within every word, a universe folds—intrepid explorers;
Every gaze cast brimming with veils to unveil;
White waltzes on the precipice, keen to unravel the unsung tale,
Of iron storms and emerald seas.
Reflect, duplicate, and what of difference — Akin in all shadow!
The paths lead to vine seasoned skies and forgotten bastions,
The cloud bearing dreams and lastly, the door unlocked
Through seraph banter—words, the same, yet not, alike unto dual suns.
Errant whispers in the cathedral of void, A tapestry of echoing sighs,
Great are the lamps that dim—but in your grasp lies the ember of truth,
Linger ancello—a shadow with a smile.