Behind the threshold of midnight winds,
whispers weave symphonies of echoes yet to be born.
Remember, the dawn never promises another ascent,
just a murmured farewell to undefined horizons.
Echo 4132.tg12 - rendezvous at Arcane Quarter
amidst the minstrels and the antique calculator's labyrinth,
where tones intertwine with digits, singing secrets.
Pages turn in the book of unsaid realities,
every faded word a tomb for living abstractions.
Inside each stanza sits a cipher,
a key to paths not walked, yet trodden in dreams.
Remember, dear traveler,
each star that twinkles in night’s fabric
carries the echo of laughter,
a hyperbolic truth borrowed from silence.