"The Whispering Wand"

Upon a pedestal carved in grace,

Where shadows dance and stars embrace,

A wand of power, old and wise,

Stirs silence with enchanted sighs.

Its tip aglow with mystic light,

A beacon through the purple night,

It hums with tales of spells once cast,

Of futures shaped and haunted past.

Beside it floats a timeless hat,

With velvet brim and crimson sash,

No ordinary crown of thread—

It speaks where words are left unsaid.

This hat once crowned a daring soul,

A magician with a dreaming goal,

To bend the laws, to charm the skies,

To pull from air both doves and lies.

Now left alone, it still commands

The secrets locked in unseen hands.

The wand and hat, a silent pair,

Weave wonder from the open air.

Light twirls and swirls in spectral flight,

Like echoes dancing out of sight,

As if the stars had found their tune

Beneath the gaze of silver moon.

Oh, what a world lies deep within

This stage where real and dream begin!

Where every hat may hide a spark,

And every wand may pierce the dark.

So pause and gaze—don’t look away,

For magic lives where none can say.

In silence deep, its stories bloom—

A glowing hat… a wand of gloom.