In the caverns of forgotten whispers,
Time carves not the present but the absence.
A dance of shadows on ancient dust,

Beneath the silent fossils, echoes of what might have been.
I ask the stones their stories,
But the stories are of things not here,

A world woven from the threads of dreams
That linger beyond the fringes of waking.

Explore these remnants:
Layers of Echo | Whispered Dreams