Through a world of wax and shadows they ever wander

Through a world of wax and shadows they ever wander, Secret auditors of inner voices, clear as crystal, Following them like music throbbing through the veins of a slumbering city, Whispering hidden paths - some call madness, others, myth. Within them wrestles a muse born of the depths of being, Singing a wordless melody, yet full of ancient meanings. Under their steps, the earth trembles, hearing the same summons That makes these visionaries dance on the wire between genius and downfall. The wind steals their thoughts, scatters them across the world like the seeds of a forest, They leave behind rhapsodies that blossom into legends, or just ash. They are knights of disquiet, tamers of inner sirens, Bearing the burden and the gift to see beyond what is mortal, ordinary. Oh, how thin is the thread that binds vision to the cry of silence, They soar, they dive into the ocean of stars within their own minds, And the world watches, wondering whether to crown them or forsake them - Some will melt into the void, others will rise to the level of tales rooted in horizons. Thus, each step of theirs is an unwritten poem, an act of magical being, Where each choice is an arc over the abyss, a flirt with immortality. Leaving impressions that weep and laugh, cry out and whisper, These souls become a book to be read with the heart, not the eyes; theirs is the undying story.