Amidst a tangle of vines, under bark - a frozen library carved by creatures unseen...\ Old letters etched out of winds,\ borrowed from skies long fallen in silence.
The answer lies within broken lines,\ chants once uttered under lunar slips,\ now only palimpsests\ on the trembling nodes of evening trees.
The letters of the ancients blink through layers\ —understood by flickers,\ of embers past gently roused by spinning time.\ We sought grandeur in decay, splendor within beneath roots entwined.