In the folds of shadows, where the light traces an unwilling path
lies the mansion of forgotten echoes.
Here, time has twisted and teased its relentless grip
leaving behind the whispers of those who dared to wander
and never left.
Their lingering sighs weave through the corridors,
mere remnants of lingering dreams, woven in silk of safe obscurity.
They inhabit every auditory disaster, a deja vu whispering
tales only partially crafted, or should we say
fragments left in the veil of yesterday.
Paths split, intertwine, only to mock their apparent freedom
Mirrors reflect, not selves, but absences whose presence
marks every cold step reverently taken in the place
that both remembers and forgets you.
Would you unlock the whispers shielded beneath cobblestones,
decipher the language lost to ever-foreboding dusk
Unseen tears trickling into engraved runes, freezing
them into your memory, becoming a part to beginning an ending?