Beneath the braided roots of forgotten trees, an echo persists
like a ripple across the still pond of past existence.
Here, the whispers of ages blend with the laughter of lost children,
where time folds around itself, not linear but soft and spiraled.
Shadows dance upon stone where moonlight paints tales
of travelers who wandered
—lost between dreams and waking nightmares.
Each memory captured in smoky veils of time,
elusive, yet present.
To step forward, one must step back.
Between the pulse of the stars
and the breath of the earth,
lies the threshold.
Mournful orbs of ignition scatter the path,
illuminating fear with ecstatic embrace.
Seek the echoes, not just heard—but felt.
Touch the light,
extinguish the thought
grasping shadows past.
Another realm awaits,
your silence speaks loudest.