In halls of mirrors, do you hear
the symphony of whispered fears?
Reflections swirl, distorted yet clear,
through echoes of time when hearts dared listen.
The ground hums a tune only mathematics knows.
You step forward but ground recedes
beneath marbled skies drenched in twilight.
Threads weave truth, elusive, grasped
like an illusionist's spark.
Can mirrors remember what they recount
to no one but themselves in the inky void?
Sculpted silence bends voices
bending time into spirals,
echoing a solemn hymn solitary.
Seek eternity's echo.