With the rise of AI, for the first time, the barrier of skill is swept away. In this evolving era, taste is the new skill... (Claire Silver)
In the heart of a forgotten land,
Where silence reigns and shadows stand,
Lies an abbey, once a place of prayer,
Now a silent, crumbling lair.
Within its walls, where echoes roam,
Two swans reside, a fleeting home.
A black swan, graceful, stark and bold,
Its wings like midnight, tales untold.
A white swan, pure and serene,
A vision of hope, a dream so keen.
In this abbey's depths, they glide and glide,
A symbol of peace, where secrets hide.
The black swan, with its ebony hue,
A silent guardian, watching anew.
The white swan, with its snowy crest,
A beacon of hope, a soul at rest.
Together they roam, these swans so grand,
In this abbey's heart, where time has spanned.
A testament to beauty's art,
In this forgotten haven, where spirits dart.