Distant Echoes

The clock whispers secrets once held in deep reverie by mere shadows.
Wandering symphonies compose themselves in empty symphonic halls.
Do you hear them?
The sound of believed conversations disappearing like morning mist.
Often, they speak in languages words no longer comprehend.

Forgotten dialogues in the cathedral of thought, where echoes sing in disjoint harmony.
A tapestry woven not with threads, but silences and sighs.
The past found shelter in these echoes, a gallery with walls of nothing.
Hollow, yet endless in depth.