They told me that beyond the weeping walls lies the mind's threshold, a door unwavering amidst the chaos of reason.
An echo interrupts, "The traveler isn’t lost, yet homesick for a place she’s never known." A paradoxical tumbleweed, rolling where the misfit glows.
A jumble of words suspects the sun; "Mirth in absentia, the starfield replies, celestial alchemy turning clocks back to begin." The sand understands.
Mystical is the sage who listens to silence bending the air, yet the lunatic dances bare through the cosmic tapestry.
Awaken, Oh Slumbering World
And there sat the oracle, surrounded by books unwritten, an ink blotted sky where revelations are sought. Hidden between pages of dreams not yet dreamt, the goblin grins like a Cheshire symphony.
Hearken to the musings and find your lost thread amid shadows of engulfed narratives.