Echoes pierce through the shroud of silence,
each note a fragment of forgotten tales—
woven in ink, on parchment of dreams,
trembling in the twilight that always waits.
Shadows convene upon the altar of stillness,
confessing sins that never were,
in a language of ebon storms and fading light.
But there is an unending hush, where even screams recoil.
The hollow piano resonates, sighing
with melodies ripped from the stars themselves,
scattering light into a dance of sorrow—
endless reveries falling like autumn leaves.
Traverse further into the abyss where silence speaks.
Yet, in stillness, a door opens, creaking
under the weight of haunting laughter,
unbound by time, unchained from fate.
In its whisper, discover the shadows that once were home.