Through the mist-soaked corridors of understanding,
replete with echoes of the time-worn voices,
The spiral leads upwards,
where shadows dance upon tales unfinished.
Veiled whispers shared amongst the ink-bearers,
drifting in silent currents beneath the moon's pallor,
weave tapestries leading toward obsidian horizons.
What lies beyond the convergence of stars,
feared yet alluring in ghostly illumination?
An ascent scripted by tides of forgotten melancholy.