Paths of twilight shimmer in energized verse, footsteps echo like verses in poetry's never-ending labyrinth. We concur before the shadows leap with unsaid promises, weaving a tapestry of prismic reflections. Can you hear the whispers call? They beckon, jubilant in their elusive dance. Somewhere, between dusk and the halting dawn, a voice dances on the fringes of clarity.
Take a leap! Venture where the whispers dare not tread. You will find the jubilant chaos of thought waiting, refracted through a lens of crystalline clarity. The paths are not as they seem, winding around memories like playful ghosts. Who's to know where they lead? Perhaps to sparkling murmurs or echoing voicings.