In a sunlit moment, when shadows whisper their secrets to the dawn, the scent of warm bread weaves through the air like a lover's embrace. Jars of memories, filled with one hundred endless springs, sit lined by the kitchen window, each a portal to the past and a promise of tomorrow.
The baker, a phantom clothed in flour, dances amid these jars. Each knead of the dough—a cipher for unspoken words, each rise a testament to patience. Can you hear it? The symphony of grains, water, and love melding as a silent hymn to the art of creation. In the margins of the universe, where time dawdles and dreams linger, lies the oven of forever.
As you journey on, pause and consider these golden loaves. They are not mere sustenance, but offerings emblazoned with the moon's lullabies. Where the crust meets the heart, find stories unwritten, waiting to be sketched—much like the doodles left by wandering thoughts across the canvas of existence.
Will you join the ballet of the dough? Yet unsure of foot, follow the finest flour, trail of captivating spices, and breadcrumbs that twine through the verses of this poem.
On your journey, seek balance—a yeast of time rising within, expanding beyond grains of sand and fleeting seconds. Here, in this space between breaths, bread meets soul, an intimate dance written not on paper but on the parchment of the universe itself.