In depths where stars dare not tread,
the catacombs wear silence like a specter’s embrace,
cradling the flickers of forgotten lullabies.
Beneath smooth stones, beneath muted echoes,
soft hymns ripple through marrow,
as gleaming embers beckon the lost souls
with a tenderness only the ancients know.
The gentle sway of time’s perennial dance
births visions of ethereal guardians,
silhouetted against the eternal fire
of moments eternally burning in whispers.
Does the night sing for what has never lived,
or hum for what was always meant to be?
Here in endless palaces of bones
and murmuring light,
we float, together in spectral harmony.