In the recesses of the mind, a hollow place erased by time,
exist the echoes of fading memories, echoes that sing of being,
and not being, a whisper on the wind—remnants unnoticed.
Allow the shadows to unravel stories, like threads of a night
long past, dreamed but forgotten, in this labyrinth of thought
where steps trace nothing and everything, nothing as it was
meant in the dusky unreality.