The murmurs of forgotten volumes
Lost in syllables, tethered in parchment
"Infinity, beyond," cries the undulating quill
To the child stars awaiting their scribes.
Have you seen the library of mirrors?
Where every glance returns a borrowed thought?
Quiet lunatics roam, searching through
The echo of their shadowed library cards.
Whisper, whisper in the twilight ink
The pages bathed in moonlit chants
—For every dream holds a tale untold,
For every tale, a dream unsown.