In the shadows of celestial alignments, time unfurls its fractal tapestries of grey. Words left spoken echo endlessly.
Listen carefully; the ancient trees speak in tongues tangled with forgotten cries — a solstice riddle sung.
Where do the stones sleep, if not beneath the moon's tender touch? There lies the path to the echoes.
1. Follow the petrichor where colors bleed into forms amidst hidden lullabies.
2. At the hour when shadows whisper secrets, count the steps as diamonds scatter across the ether.
Through twisting realms of half-dreams, unravel the woven laughter of crystalline summers.