In the folds of time, where light dares not tread, a voice unravels
Weaving whispers of twilight, through a hollow so infinite
Notes of silence shudder, a symphony of memories unsaid.
Beyond the periphery of this hallowed echo, the past speaks,
Statues with eyes of eternity gaze, their granite tongues
Scream in voiceless lullabies, cascading through eternity's breath.
Stand still, and let the echoes etch stories upon your soul,
The echo is not a sound, but a feeling, a longing, a dream
That once was and forever shall be, reverberating, resounding...