At the edge of oblivion, where light dare not tread, I found a whisper.
The air smelled of forgotten steps, of paths that echo in their absence.
“Are you there?” it asked, trembling through the void.
Yet my voice, once potent, now a ghost, stumbled on its shadow.
Solitude, the silent companion, wraps around like a calm storm.
In its embrace, the heart learns to scream without sound,
to shout not in anger but in a longing that gnaws like a moth
through the fabric of one's thoughts.
Distant echoes, silent screams...
Do you hear the echoes of what could have been,
in corridors adorned by memories that laugh in the dusk?
Whisper through the walls that were never built,
listen to what longs to be seen.
The dim stars watch silently, indifferent yet involved
in a way that gives solace to the hollow cries.
Through this maze, let our footsteps linger, record our silent soliloquy,
and perhaps, we will listen to ourselves through the silence.