In the cradle of rebirth, forgotten echoes reside,
blooms of thought unfurl in silence,
petals kissed by dew of memory.
Beneath an azure canvas, harmonious musings
awaken the sleeping giants of yore.
The sun spills golden prose across verdant plains,
where shadows dance to the tune of ancient songs.
Time, a mere whisper in the breath of cicadas,
as truths lie bare beneath the unwavering gaze
of a cosmos untouched by history's hand.
Crimson leaves cascade upon corridors of thought,
as philosophers trace spirals in the dust.
The harvest of ideas ripe for gleaning,
yet each kernel sown into the soil of oblivion
promises rebirth in cryptic seasons ahead.
A blanket of stillness cradles the universe,
muffling the staccato beat of the relentless clock.
In this sanctuary of white, where whispers freeze,
the forgotten future patiently awaits its turn
under a sky draped in timeless night.