The Corridors of Time

I am but a shadow, flitting through the corridors of time, tracing the etchings of existence upon the walls. Each doorway, a memory of realms that were.

In the faltering light, I glimpse echoes of a life half-forgotten, whispers of laughter mingling with the stark silence of unuttered truths. “Do you remember?” a voice amidst the shadows softly inquires.

Yet, here I wander, bereft of substance and tether, searching... always searching. A corridor emerges, woven of starlight and dust, leading to dreams distant and near.

There lies an inscription on the stone, "Time waits for no one," an echo of the eternal flow before me.

Footsteps of those who traversed this path before me resonate, a symphony of passage played in a minor key, leading forever toward forgotten pathways.

Shall I not find my rest in these labyrinthine halls? Or am I destined to wander, a sentinel of ages, guarding secrets unfathomable?