Somewhere, beyond the horizon where the stars dare not wander,
lies a path woven in whispers and dreams.
The echoes of thoughts, trapped mere moments
before they fade, suspended in amber.
I remember the velvet fog of mornings,
wrapping every sound in a warm embrace.
A step, a breath, a heartbeat
echoing through the corridor of time.
What journeys were these, unseen?
Here, in the quiet, the world unravelled
as the tapestry of existence wove itself anew.
Each thread a memory, a sigh, a secret
whispered by the wind into the listening trees.
Will you follow the hidden paths,
where the journey itself becomes the echo?
Or will you remain, savoring the silence,
an observer of the dance of shadows and light?