Within these cryptic corridors,
whispers weave tales of forgotten dreams.
Listen closely; tread softly
Lest the silent specter remembers your name.
Where shadows dance on walls
Painted with hues of etchings past,
Seek the stories never written,
Observe the echoes in every glance.
A voice without a mouth calls
Arise from mist-thickened age,
Catch the shimmer of a whispered sigh
Adrift, like muffled rain on ancient stone.
Fables of Old
Journey Through the Void
Corridors of Perception