In the corridors of thought, as echoes blend with silence, a palette of shadows unfolds.

Listen. A riddle unfolds its wings, casting gleams of light upon a forgotten dusk.

What is always coming, yet never arrives?

The floor creaks under the weight of your anticipation, a symphony of unspoken promises.

Beyond this moment lies the dusk, where faint whispers transform into soft secrets.

Every shade is a doorway within a mirror, leading not forward but inward.

The riddle breathes, a living shadow among shades.