In the echo of a forgotten room, a moth spins tales to empty walls.
The ink on pages never written wanders aimlessly in twilight's hold.

When the sky wears its deepest blue, it hums a tune of silences.
Shadows dance beneath the gaze of stars never seen, weaving lullabies.

Waves of time ripple through the labyrinth, carrying whispers of unmade dreams.
Decay becomes the architect of memories held loosely in veils of fog.