Do truths sung by the moonlight
weave realms of unwritten fantasy,
or do shadows cast by the dawn
reveal the seams of our woven destiny?
The labyrinth whispers of futures etched
with the quills of the ancients,
where the pulsing heart of the future
seeks solace in the reflections of yesterday.
"To touch the fabric of fate is to dance with phantoms,"
said the one who walks the path of forgotten light.
The skylight alone knows its echo,
the utopias chased beneath a sunless sky.
And in that chase, the whistle of time conforms
to a melody no ear can hear, yet all are bound by it.