In the silent breath of the fading light,
whispers of yesteryears spin in the dusk.
Experiments linger, suspended in time,
as shadows dance on walls untouched by light.
A gentle hum of forgotten whispers
croons a lullaby to the rusted beakers,
their secrets steeped in the silence,
waiting for night’s embrace to dissolve them.
Here, the labored toil of curious minds
fades softly like echoes on misty rivulets,
where each drop carries a memory,
each ripple a sigh of longing solitude.
And so, in this sanctuary of the unseen,
truth and dream blend into a tapestry,
woven deftly by the hands of the silent,
unraveling threads of light and shadow.