In the darkened folds of reality, whispers gather.
Hieroglyphs written in tongues that have forgotten
the breath of life, carving glyphs in soft silences.
Shadows gather to form the outlines of memories
not yet lived, their contours vague and shape-less,
a dance of figures only seen by the dreaming eye.
Journey into paths where echoes tread lightly
faint trails marked by steps unheard.
Witness the formation where the unseen speaks.
What do the shadows say?
The answer lies within, or perhaps without in the garden of whispers.