In the sepulchral silence, a murmur unfurls:
"The ravens spoke of moons unseen, where time lingers on a threadbare seam."
Absurd is the dance of the gossamer wraiths,
Tangling in webs spun by the hands of the absent gods.
They cry, "Listen closely, for beneath the lament, lies a truth unraveled by madness."
Through the veil, a distorted whisper, a promise
Forgotten by the sands — To unveil the past, one must
Embrace the echoes of the unseen.