The Glass Fable: Weaving Fate's Tapestry
In a realm of crystal whispers,
Where shadows play upon the dawn,
A glass-spun fable softly lingers,
With tangled threads of fate withdrawn.
The moonlit prisms dance like clouds of stars,
Reflecting stories held in delicate hue,
A realm where time's forgotten hands embrace
The echoes of the words you never knew.
Through misty realms of gilded tale,
The wanderer walks with feet of sand,
Seeking the secret obsidian veil,
Where fate's soft fingers make their stand.
An inexplicable harmony arises,
From crystal chambers curving timeless vines,
Resounding in the hollow chime of silence,
As fate's fragmented arabesques align.
The looking glass whispers to me now,
Echoing a promise forever lost,
Yet through its labyrinthine brambles,
I tread lightly, counting the cost.