Whispers in the corridors of time,
each syllable a ripple, halting,
cascading through the glassy mirage.
Over the edge of night,
below the horizon's embrace,
lies the canvased void of forgotten chants.
Lullabies lost to ages,
sung by shadows in twilight's grasp;
a symphony of silent breaths
Dancing with specters beneath the skin,
illuminating the echoes of yesterday,
reflecting in a distorted truth.