The Silent Sage

In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A mystic figure holds the sacred way, A book of secrets, worn and old, Guides her journey through mystic gold. Her eyes, like lanterns in the night, Illuminate paths, both dark and bright, The crown upon her brow so fine, A symbol of her mystic design. With every page, a story's spun, Of trials faced, and wisdom won, Her heart, a vessel, pure and deep, A reservoir of mysteries asleep. In silence, she communes with the night, And finds the answers to life's plight, Her spirit, a flame that burns so bright, Guiding her through the darkest night.