In the pallid twilight, where shadows leer, The murmurs crawl on cobwebbed ceilings. A heart beats erratic; a clock lost in time, Silence reverberates through desolate halls.
Lurking echoes of voices not heard, Yet resounding within, a ghastly chorus. Windows, mere slits to the eternal void, Guard the tremors of a past unseen.
What crafts this symphony, of bones and dust? Whispers etched in walls, breathe a tale, Of ancient mariners lost in their dreams, Sunk by the tides of their own silences.
A raven intones, perched on the forgotten, Its caw a dirge for souls unspoken. And here, in this cathedral of night, We gather, to listen to the murmurs of silence.
Wander through the echoes, if you dare:
The Flicker of Distant Stars
Into the Gloom's Grasp