In the hollow corridors where echoes rarely tread,
I found laughter beneath a shroud of dusk.
It was not loud, nor did it seek the light,
But nestled within, cradling whispered dreams.
What is the nature of this labyrinth,
If not a mirror to the mind spun from shadow?
Walls shift, corridors breathe,
A maze woven with threads of thought and silence.
Am I the dreamer, or the dream itself?
Twilight brings no answers, only deeper questions
Whose roots dig deep into the soil of consciousness,
Anchoring truths in layers of gentle, fading light.
As I walk, I ponder—
Is laughter a signpost on the path to clarity,
Or a cryptic song of night hidden among stars?
Each step a note, each breath a stanza,
In the symphony of the seen and the unseen.