In the heart of an untamed breeze lies a village.
Once known to the travelers of lost dreams,
it cradles secrets weaved in rustling leaves.
Hidden behind words barely spoken is the echo.
Walk among shadows beneath the cries of silent yesterdays,
where moss clings to ancient walls
and doors to nowhere creak open.
Speak to the wind before kneeling,
amidst the petals that dissolve into nothingness.
In every pause, a whisper carries an unspoken truth.
Hold the compass that points nowhere deliberately,
and let the rhythm of whispers guide your way,
past roots tangled in yarns of dreams and echoes of truths yet unsaid.
Beware the laughter that dances like mist;
it masks paths and conceives shadows
through corridors of unlit notions and missing pieces.
Navigate the vagueness, assemble shadows.