In the twisting paths of fleeting shadows,
I wandered, seeking whispers muted by time.
"Echoes linger longer than speech," it murmured,
"for voices carried on the wind suffice to fade."
Time, a fickle companion in these corridors,
dances with memory, leaving only mist in its wake.
Do truths dissolve where mirrors lie,
or do they await beneath layers of forgotten ink?