Beneath the ancient, crumbling brows of forgotten cities,
where the air thickens with whispers of unseen paths,
I chart a course through shadows and sighs,
guided by the harmony of synthetic voices.
The mist unfurls like a tapestry of secrets,
in its weave, a symphony of echoes,
each note a thread binding dreams to reality.
Do you hear them, the voices of the unseen?