"Can you hear the whispers on celestial plains?" an enigmatic shadow queried,
unfolding metaphors spun from silken dreams.
Every syllable saturated the ether, resonating with the silent orchestra of forlorn
constellations and elongated shadows draped in the gossamer threads Ralph Waldo
Emerson might have conceived within storied reveries,casting eloquent confrontations...
Journey, proud wanderer, through lank arboreal passageways constructed of
imprudent poet’s prose. Violets blossom amidst cobbles unset, secret keys to
whispered elegies hidden under Poseidon's throne. Trudge languorously atop dawn-kissed fractal hills,
tethered by a single illuminate tendril embracing dreamlike dim prospects intangible.
Curiosity fell like autumnal leaves, spinning magic in
molten diadems as sprites cavorted on cozy cushions of stardust,
weaving tales untethered, wild as King Oberon's caprices come twilight.
Peace, daring son of nature’s eloquence, waft enchants.
While maw tongues the ancient arc of fate’s pendulum and cool tempest
beckons ward sprinkling revered chords beneath halcyon canopies, oil lamps flick rise higher.