The word unfurls like autumn's whisper,
weaving through the twilight fibers of existence.
Let the syllables conjoin, fracture, mend—
a symphony sculpting silence into sound.
Above, a fractal moon hovers—
echoing lore lost in the sieve of time.
Subtle shadows pirouette on spectral beams,
unraveling dreams where boundaries once breathed.
We are echoes of echoes,
drifting through corridors of threefold resonance.
Unlock the locks, not of metal,
but of thoughts entangled in poetic webs.