Twisted Tales

In the whispering corridors of ancient dreams,
where shadows weave through threads of forgotten time,
lies a tale of silk and stars, unspooled in the quiet night.
Gaze upon the echoes; they reach like hands from,

A mirror long cracked and chipped, reflecting
a world where the roses bloom blue, and the clocks
are silent at the stroke of moments lost to obscurity.
They sing within the walls,

And their serenade is a lullaby rich with tales
of ivory paper boats sailing on rivers of mist,
each carrying a ghost of a dream that might have been.
Listen closely,

For every whisper is a tale; every sigh, a memory
of lands seen through the eyes of wandering spirits,
tracing the paths of distant starry shores.
Will you chase the song, after the sun dips below?
Enter the labyrinth