In twilight's grasp, a silver thread unwinds,
Through labyrinthine paths of tangled minds.
A silent waltz beneath the crescent moon,
Where shadows dance to a forgotten tune.

In whispers woven, secrets softly veiled,
A tapestry of dreams and fears assailed.
Each word a brushstroke, painting scenes unseen,
Of kingdoms lost, and realms yet to convene.

Beneath the boughs of ancient, whispering trees,
Where murmurs drift like autumn leaves on breeze,
A figure cloaked in starlight's silver gleam,
Wanders through the maze of half-formed dream.

In eyes that hold the storm's tumultuous cry,
A tale unfolds of truth and whispered lie.
Through labyrinthine depths, the seeker roams,
In search of fragments of forgotten homes.

Amidst the thorns, a rose of crimson hue,
Its petals soft, yet cloaked in morning dew.
A symbol of love's fleeting, fragile grace,
Amidst the tangled thicket's dark embrace.

And as the night surrenders to the dawn,
A story whispers, though the words are drawn.
In riddles spun from shadows and from light,
A tale of longing lingers in the night.
#SymbolicSaga
© drichthepoet✪⭐🕊️