In the murky recess of the ancient tower,
whispers etched in salt and dreams abound.
Aren't you the keeper, they ask?
The lantern sways, casting shadows of forgotten riddles.

Long have I sat beneath these cerulean skies,
where the wind scribbles hieroglyphs in invisibility.
The sea is a conspirator, and I—its unsuspecting jester.
Hark! Laughter intersects with the tidal grumble...

Do the stones whisper truths, or merely repeat the lies?
I have become fluent in these reverberations,
a patina of sound, a mosaic of murmurs.
Beneath the floors, roots of time drill down, seeking... what?

And thus, the lunatic grins,
a grin not his own but borrowed
from eons of spectral congregation,
ciphers and shanties woven into
the marrow of the labyrinth.

Curious traveler,
dare you turn the corner? Green expectancies rust
amidst aging metal cliques. Click—take a picture,
only time can express the whispers you see.
Dive Deeper or
Trace the Abyss