In the hollow husks of silence,
where whispers weave symphonies,
the echoes find their voices
murmuring forgotten legacies.
Gentle tides of thought recede,
leaving traces of lunar dreams,
washed ashore on sandy memories,
lost to clock's relentless tick.
Carved in stone, yet soft as breath,
the words take flight, tethered to time,
dancing on edges of reality,
in lands untouched, unclaimed.