Step gently upon the moss of forgotten echoes. When the clock strikes thirteen, plant the seeds in the soil of withheld laughter. Remember to water them with droplets of unwritten verses collected under the third moon. Follow the path to discover more hidden truths.
To converse with the shadows of yesterday, whisper softly in the language of lost postcards. The breeze will guide you to vaults of melodies that were never sung. Do not fear the silence; it is in the silence that the loudest truths reside.
As dusk falls, trace the outlines of dreams once had in places you have never been. Use a light that exists only in the heart's eye. There, amidst the echoing void, you will find a book whose pages turn themselves, revealing the paths of the labyrinth.
And, should you encounter a fork in the path, trust the decisions made by voices you cannot name. They know the steps backwards and forwards through this ethereal landscape.