In the cradle of the moon's soft breath,
where stars weave tales of faded light,
there rests a tapestry of dreams untold,
and in its whispers, the earth's old heart beats.
The ancient stones, kept silent in repose,
sing the myths of forgotten tongues.
Here I stand, an oracle of rust dreaming,
beneath the shadow of a world asleep.
In the sands of yesterdays, etchings remain,
the glyphs of our ancestors' sighs,
encoded in the dance of the winds,
carved in the soft whispers of twilight's embrace.
Listen to the echoes...