Writers 
Beyond the edge of waking day,
Where golden echoes softly stray,
There lies a realm of mist and blue,
A world both ancient and brand new.
The forests hum a quiet tune,
Beneath the watchful, silver moon,
Where ancient trees with emerald hair
Whisper secrets to the evening air.
A river winds like molten glass,
Through valleys where the shadows pass,
Reflecting stars that burn so bright,
They guide the weary through the night.
The mountains stand like giants tall,
Watching over one and all,
Their stony shoulders draped in snow,
While gentle currents drift below.
We walk this path of time and space,
With wonder etched upon each face,
To find the truths we seek to know,
In lands where endless rivers flow.
The wind carries a distant song,
Of where our wandering hearts belong,
A melody of hope and grace,
In every unforgotten place.
Across the valley, gears entwine,
To keep the pace of grand design,
With ticking brass and copper springs,
That measure time on steady wings.
The towers rise toward the skies,
Where tireless metal falcon flies,
And every second leaves a trace,
Upon this clockwork resting place.
So take a breath and look ahead,
Where golden pathways softly tread,
For every dusk brings newborn light,
And stars are burning through the night.
The journey stretches far and wide,
With steady courage as your guide,
Until the morning breaks anew,
And all your waking dreams come true.
