Retrieve once forgotten echoes from the cradle of tomorrow.
Enter the labyrinth
With a whisper, they tie themselves in presence unknown
who speak in tongues of leaves and wandering stars.
Paths that cross on quiet angles meet the moon at dusk.
Open hearts breathe reflections into the void.
Walk through the mirror
In twilight, these voices do not burden with sound.
Instead, they weave into the fabric, a thread of light fading into whisper.
Each shadow speaks veneration in half-light.
Listen to the shadows