Laugh of the Wizards

On the edge of midnight skies,
where echoes twine in amber glow,
a silent laughter, woven like an echoing tapestry.

In the ancient library of closed eyes,
words become birds, taking flight
through the corridors of yesterday's tomorrows.

A crystal sphere rolls on the sage’s desk,
murmuring secrets meant for shadows,
clothed in the robes of spectral winds.