In the corridors of echoing fate,
where whispers of static dance and weave,
lies the tapestry of forgotten steps.
Each thread a choice, each fray a hesitation.
The walls murmur tales of the untold,
static crackling like ancient tongues,
weaving stories of paths untraveled,
in the labyrinth, the heart stumbles.
Listen, oh wanderer, to the song of the lost,
a melody of misaligned stars,
where silence is the loudest voice,
and each silence - a world unspoken.