The moon drapes the silent street
A figure cloaked in shadows, glides past
Beneath a flickering gaslight
Where whispers encode the night's secrets.
Lights dance like spirits in the mist,
A hand drawn in tremulous arcs,
As silent as the crypts beneath the city,
Ink flows like the very blood of old gods.
Ah, but where the fog thickens,
Lies truth twisted through time's loom,
Hidden, among nebulae, in ciphers
Written by the forgotten stars.
The clock strikes, echoing through hollow chambers. In shadows, the past murmurs its tales—a palimpsest of broken dreams.
Every flicker reveals, yet conceals; an unending dance of light and obscurity.