Each thread sings a story, a vibrational labyrinth echoing the tunes of forgotten suns. Wandering hands find paths in pollen mist.
Noises, those beneficial poisons, swell within logs like unwieldy dragons, gnashing the calm with unwrapped golden silence.
Can you untangle the web of lunar relics?
Converse softly with echoes
In depths where light fractures, the horizon weaves itself anew.
A touch upon the lattice reveals paths once cryptic... Paths infinitesimal and ethereal.