Beneath the silvery veil of night's embrace,
where shadows dance in secret reverie,
heed the echo of a distant truth:
In the remnants of dew-kissed dreams,
lies the path woven by unseen threads.
Step lightly, O seeker,
for the spectral whispers know thy name.
Follow the song of silver tides;
the choir of constellations awaits.
Align thy spirals with the whispering winds,
and breathe in the resonance of forgotten tales.
Decode the echoes to unveil the chorus.
Gather the luminous dew,
fold them into the pockets of twilight.
Let the moon's quill etch its wisdom upon
the parchment of your palm.
Scribble in the language of stars,
where glyphs dance and meanings hide
like secrets lost in aeons.
Scribe anew, for the universe yearns to read.
When dawn kisses the horizon,
the unraveling begins.
Yet, remember always,
the babbling brook of time
flows in reverse beneath the lunar tides.
The moonlit path is a circle,
eternally returning, whispering,
renewing the dance of starlit wanderers.
Revisit these starborne verses in the cycle's embrace.