When silence clads the world in shadow's veil,
And stars like watchful eyes in heaven wane,
An echo stirs, a memory's subtle trail,
Of voices lost in twilight's soft refrain.
Speak not of light, for it hath flown afar,
The gentle kiss of night upon the skin,
Invites the paths where ancient phantoms are,
In doctrine whispered, secrets breathe within.
Do you not hear the chime of hollow dreams,
That cling to vestiges of what was known?
In labyrinths of thought where darkness teems,
Reside the mournful hearts of stone alone.