"It is not the darkness that speaks but the absence of words,
drifting like feathers in the absence of gravity," murmured the lantern.
A door edged open, revealing not a room but a mirror:
"Every reflection is but an echo of what was never touched."
Shadows uncovered their secrets among murmurs of incandescent shade:
"In the reverberation of silence, I find the sound of my own emergence."
Eloquence of the glow painted stories on the nascent walls:
"We are ghosts of brilliance, stealing moments from the perpetually dim."