In the land where whispers weave through willow-trees' wands,
An echo of yesterday's songs, still sung by shadows.
Here lies the Isle of Lingerseas,
Where dreams drift—unanchored.
Paths unwoven lead to windswept shores,
The Cartographer's hand trembles in uncharted dances.
Beyond the horizon, the Foggy Sea's embrace
Binds the distant realm of Eye-of-Water.
Follow the pulse through valleys shaded in stories untold,
Or perhaps, whisper to the sandcastles, beneath the sun's watchful gaze.