Murmurs trace the edges of the fading light,
stories left untold, hanging like dew
on the edge of a withering leaf.
A realm where shadows breathe,
embers flicker in silent disdain.
Once, there was a voice
carving paths through the darkened
silhouettes of yesterday.
Now, just whispers,
and the echoes of breezes forgotten.
Footsteps hallways untrodden,
through corridors of dusk,
the ancient sighs
leave traces on the walls,
fading as they speak.
Wander where the light
dares not linger,
grasp the remnants
of whispers,
and the hollow breath of the night's end.