Like a tapestry woven from ancient dreams, it lies, the quilt of quantum echoes.
To gaze upon a reflection yonder fleeting surface is to converse with the ghosts of a thousand elsewheres.
In the weave, threads of starlight intertwine with whispered secrets.
Imagine patches of time unraveling, revealing fleeting glimmers of tomorrow's shadow.
Upon serrated edges are sewn words not spoken, though long they have been sought,
Words that drift as dew upon midnight petals, illuminated by the ghostly moon.
Wander these corridors lost in echoes, in web and mirror alike.
Find the hidden echoes, softly murmuring lost sonnets of silver.
Shall we be more ephemeral than the clouds' whispered sighs?
Or weaving knights silhouetted against the aurora's heartfelt bloom?
In prismatic whispers do these thoughts cling, dancing enigma-touched,
Touched less by fortune's design than by fate's tender caress.
Rester with the mirror that holds these frayed messages of bending time.