In the hushed embrace of twilight,
Where whispers dance upon the winds,
Lay the echo of ancient tides, [1]
Broken fragments of yesterday's dreams.
The sands tell stories without voices,
Scribes of epochs lost to shadowed realms,
Etched in the tapestry of starlit voids,
Silent prologues of the once-were kings. [2]
Footprints of time linger delicately,
Mapping the heartbeats of the earth,
With each pulse, a revolution circles,
In the waltz of cosmic sand cascades. [3]
Time doesn't hoard, it simply remembers.
A fragment of dusk caught in the amber of light,
Whispers a melody only the echoes know.
The spiral seashell, singing lullabies of long-lost shores.
And within the cobbled embrace of reality,
Forgotten sphinxes watch over the sands of syntax,
Guardians of riddles carved in the light of moons. Read more.
Seek not the relics in the dust,
For there is no dust but stories:
A mirror, a crystal, a drop of dew, reflecting eternity.
"Cry not for the absent throne,
For the throne is but a seat for shadow."
- From the unpublished talk of the gravest Elders.
"When the sun bows low,
It sings songs of light,
In patterns unknown,
Unknown to those that dwell in sight."