Words engraved on the walls of the shadows
They spoke once of mirrors held up by obscurity,
reflections lacing light through smokey corridors,
where the ugliest truths coagulate into
a tranquil mendacity.
Observations from the depths ask,
not what we can gain, but the emptiness willing to
embrace what we have failed to become
in spite of flourishing illusions.
Stones cast into dry rivers ask again:
“Whose reality breathes within waking dreams
stitched by the fingers of night’s honesty?”
An echo without a tempo responds solemnly.
Seek the forgotten paths strewn with glimmers
that offend the purity of intention,
inscribed with restless truth
swaying between perception’s fragile guardians.