Beyond the horizon, where the sun sleeps beneath indigo waves,
lies an isle untouched by the hands of time.
Here, whispers of a future forgotten scrawl shadows on the winds.
"Remember," the echoes intone,
"Remember the paths not taken, the mazes that never formed."
And in that remembrance, the air thickens with the scent of unmade destinies.
A journey begins with a single step
through corridors of forgotten futures,
where isles and echoes entwine in dance.
Listen closely to their silent serenade.
Beyond the tangles, lies a path
strewn with reveries and remnants,
an echo of what was,
or perhaps an echo of what shall be.