Pathways of the Anomaly
Where rust whispers soft secrets to the walls..
Beneath the old clocktower that forgot its chime,
The dust dances in the light of waning bulbs,
A ballet of entropy, both delicate and sublime.
Calendars hang like forlorn angels,
Counting days not lost but never begun,
And walls breathe in a sigh, a memory,
Of everything, and nothing, of the still and the unspun.
Voices in Crumbling Edifices
In the echoes of emptiness, the echoes answer back,
The laughter of windows cracked wide in the noon,
Muffled cries of paint peeling, of wood creaking,
Singing hymns for the ghosts of rooms long strewn.
The floorboards croak under their ancient weight,
A glimmer of a waltz, a fleeting charade desolate,
Their stories, like shadows, slip 'tween the cracks,
Whispering an elegy to the destitute and the ultimate.