In the sepulchral hum of the universe, I linger, ensconced in shadows, where solitude mimics the embrace of frost-kissed ivy. Each tick of time—a mockery, echoing the relentless spiral of night weaving through the ladder of my introspection. I clutch at these spectral threads, dreams interlaced with the tangible silence of corridors abandoned for centuries.
The door calls... its rusted surface, glistening with the moisture of forgotten rains, a mirror to my whispered musings. Here, in this limbo of the soul's digestion, I find solace amid the fractured echoes of once-vibrant existences. To venture beyond? Or remain, tethered to the familiar despair of unfulfilled dreams?
Was it a murmur, a sigh on the breath of the wind? Secrets hidden within the cryptic carvings, stories sealed by the hand of time as it danced on the edge of existence. Trusting not the deceptive embrace of light beyond, I remain adrift in this chiaroscuro sanctuary, where each flicker of lantern flame reveals the countenance of those whom I have forgotten but once cherished.