In the shadow of the sparrow, voices fade.
On threads woven thin, the echo lingers.
Footprints etch a story unwritten,
where the horizon meets the forgotten.
A ritual of whispers, woven in dusk.
Watch the gulls cross the sun —
silent, unnoticed, they cry.
Time unspools in their wake,
fleeting as a breath in winter's grasp.
The path diverges, no direction,
carried on winds that ignore intent.
Beyond the trees, a road less traveled —
the soul's journey never mapped.
Trace the Oath Ride the Waves