in the shadows where the dreams align,
stands the figure, draped in the sun's decline.
call 'em "the.shrouded.oracle," hooded in time,
whispering futures, in rhythm and rhyme.
yellow drips down like the wax on a seal,
hands locked together, fate they conceal.
a keeper of visions that spin and reel,
in the silence, their whispers are real.
backdrop's a canvas, stark, abstract,
dreams in the threads, interwoven, intact.
the oracle knows, holds every fact,
in the quiet, feels the impact.
cloak's a flame in the twilight's breath,
a beacon for the dreams, defying death.
they stand in the void, where the light is scant,
chanting aspirations, a solemn chant.
the unseen seer in the drip of gold,
bearing dreams that have yet to unfold.
in their stance, stories untold,
guarding the future that will soon take hold.