The marble halls breathed the names of those lost to time,
Letters etched in darkness, lingering in incomprehensible palaces,
A symphony of whispers draped the air in spectral velvet.
To hear the Elders' murmur is to walk in a dream-universe,
Yonder sits the veil between what is and that which should never have spoken.
Tread the mist-laden paths where giants slumber,
The dead air shivers with the memory of prayers unsaid.
The weeping tombs chant stories of forbidden love,
Figures carved of shadow and sorrow cling to unspoken truths.
But who shall remember their oaths beneath the candlelit sky?