Where meaning gathers like ink at the tip of knowing...
Welcome, fair Wanderer. . . to my Sanctuary
The Scriptorium... a congeriem of dreams, echoes, eternal wisdom and divine transmissions.
You found your way here by the tug of your soul. May it guide you now.
For, here, there is no seeking.
Here, we relax. We breathe into the moment.
We allow Spirit to lead the way.
Listen for the Path that stirs the Soul
Here, the wind does not rush you.
Here, the stones do not ask your name.
You are welcome in the hush.
The Rustling of the Leaves
Leave not as you entered, dear one.
You are now marked by memory and mist.
What whispered here shall walk beside you —
as soft breath, as warm page, as sacred ember.
Go gently.
The quiet remains.
—The Sacred Scribe
