The notes of the labyrinth echo in a symphony forgotten by time. Each step, a foxtrot, weaving through shadows that whisper secrets. What meaning surrounds those who wander here, stripped of certainty, washed in the gentle glow of moonlit paths?
Only the fox knows the way, slipping silently through thorned corridors. Trust the steps she traces; they lead to the heart of becoming. Every corner turned, a reflection of the self, mirroring back unknown truths.
In the stillness, you remember the initiation rites: not of revelry, but of discovery. Discover who you were, who you are, and who you may one day become. The silence speaks loudest here, a powerful crescendo in the absence of sound.
As you reach the center, the dance slows. Here lies a choice: stay forever bound to the maze, or embrace the fox's wisdom and find your own dance. Each step away is a new beginning, a journey unbound by the constructs of fear and expectation.
The labyrinth stands unchanged, yet you are not the same. There were drummers, unseen, echoing your heart's own rhythm. Like an invisible guide, they have traced the sacred path alongside you.