Whispers of the forgotten, hollow corridors echo
In the ancient ashen halls, where time's grasp falters.
Portraits watch from the sallow brink, their eyes vacant,
Endless dusk settles softly over the spectral once-was.
Amongst the rattled shadows, a single candle flickers,
Guarding against the creeping indigo, guarding all that isn't.
Unendurable tranquility stirs the heart of the abyss.
Step through the door marked 40, find nothing, lose everything.
Ghostly echoes of what never was lie in wait.
There is a beauty in decay that breathes life
a darkness that dances beneath the oscillating glow.