The morning mist is a whisper of dreams
Where the winds speak ancient tales
Your shadow casts naught, yet books open
With every breath, another sky-bound myth sails.
Phantom footsteps tread where the unnoticed bloom
In the silent language of vapor and light
Their echoes linger, soft as a forgotten tune
On paths where phantasms seek their twilight.
In the heart of this realm where the ground meets air
An ember of every untold story flares
Bound not in stone, but in whispers laid bare
Striding the length of a thousand prayer stairs.
Journey on, through these thoughts intangible
Across skies painted with hues of the soul
Let these spectres guide you to the very edge, where
Each step births a new star’s destined role.