The Echoes of Spiral Time

In the caverns of forgotten clocks,
where the sand gathers silently,
whispers clothe themselves
in velvet shadows and copper rain.

Circles, that ancient wanderer,
repeat the tales of restless stars,
weaved into the very marrow
of the moonlit skies above the seas.

Once, a voice from nowhere spoke:
"Beneath the soil where roots sleep,
a thousand echoes spiral down
lifting the weight of untold dreams."

So let the lilacs sing,
their timeless absurd ballads
echoing through the spiral's heart,
as crimson shadows dance on borrowed light.