Cradle of Enigma

In the palm of time, a sphere of secrets rests, Its surface etched with runes of ancient lore. A whisper of the past, a promise of the future, It cradles the soul in its sacred embrace. Fingers gently cradle, yet firm in their hold, As if guarding a truth too precious to lose. The light dances upon its surface, A beacon of mystery in the shadowed world. What stories does it hold? What truths does it speak? In its hands, the holder becomes a keeper of legends, A guardian of the unseen, the unspoken. For in this moment, the ordinary becomes extraordinary, The mundane transforms into the mystical, And the holder is no longer just a person, But a vessel of history, a bridge to the unknown. Let the sphere guide you, let its wisdom unfold, For in its embrace, you find your own truth.