In twilight's embrace, we wander
where echoes blossom
amid caresses of shadow and light.
Here silence cradles the echo's song,
a symphony of stillness stirring the stars.
Hearken to the tales
of lands untraveled,
where the paradoxical winds weep their hymns.
Time bends in whispered truths,
clay dreams molded by paradoxical sages.
Seek the path
Through the Ripple Books
or listen to the echoing silence,
for therein lie the unspoken roads,
the lands of eternal yesterdays and tomorrows.
Like stars concealed beneath the horizon,
we are the whispers that bind the woven lands.
In every breath, a universe stirs,
dancing upon the precipice of a waking dream,
forever cradled in the arms of paradox.
The liminal calls
Echoes of the Portal
resonating through the heart's labyrinth,
a pilgrimage to the whispered lands,
where night kisses day with a tender sigh.