Beyond the mist-laden murmurs, an interstice flickers, a dimension holds its breath.
We are fragments, letters drift upon the cosmic winds,
stitched together by the unseen needle threading stars.
Where the veil conceals, whispers echo —
truths and illusions entwined in spectral dance.
Come forth, traveler of nebulous paths,
for the fable of veils is not yet told.
In the shrouded corners of forgotten realms,
the trees speak in riddles, their leaves a symphony of rustling secrets.
Listen, close your eyes and breathe —
the echoes form a bridge, woven of twilight and shadows,
leading to whispers from the spiraled past,
where time does not measure but enfolds.