In an unseen garden, where shadows whisper:
A dreamlike loop circulates—no origin, no destination.
Here, if footprints dance, they leave stories, unwritten in sand.
Unlock the riddle, or let the cipher be:
Eyes closed against reason, minds open to echoes.
Perhaps arise amid the tides of reality—a ripple, a whisper.
"Once drawn, the line must curve, for existence is not straight."
Shadows of arteries form connections, yet with every junction:
Turn left, where the mirror reflects nothing.
Turn right, where the moon's laugh echoes.
And in CipherQ, between stars’ cryptic dialogue
Exist whispers, in their somnolent langour.
Unfastened keys twinkle still in voided recursion.