The silence here is a canvas, soft and sprawling, its boundaries etched in gentle whispers of time.
Each breeze remembers—a trace of ancient footfalls hidden deep in warm voids.
Beyond the river's edge, where shadows embrace the dawn, lies the Vale of Ineffable Murmurs.
Here the map breathes—alive, with cautious contours forming heartbeats.
I once traced a path through here, guided by the resonance of dreams not yet dreamt.
Atop the soaring peaks where wind sings of distant echoes, the Gazer's Stone guards fervent memories.
A place where one can feel history drip silently like early dew upon awake leaves.
Nestled in clandestine fields just shy of twilight, secrets bloom beneath the moonlit song.
Such tales have yet to carve their destinies across the skein of unfolding silence.