Beneath the mirror's tranquil surface, an echoing silence grows,
Whispered secrets of the tunnels - labyrinthine undercurrents,
Each twist, each bend, a dance with shadows haunted,
Traces of forgotten paths that lead nowhere yet everywhere.
Shadows in the mirror seep through cracks in memory,
Wraith-like figures of yesteryears unwinding like vines,
In corridors of time whose names we never chose,
And still, they grow, tunnels of light swallowing the dark.
What do the walls remember when we are not looking?
Faces of stone carved in secret moments, unseen by day,
Raise your hand, and the past flickers, a ghostly flame,
In the mirror’s depths, where no reflection dares to pause.