Lost in labyrinthine corridors, Where whispers weave forgotten hymns. Voids cradled in nostalgia's tender grasp, Like cobwebs caught in argent moonlight. Seasons undo their ancient vows, Unknitting time's own woven turtleshell. Laws of echo chant the confessions, Of hollow chambers resting within dilapidated walls.
Hourglasses blaze with languid fire, Eroding sands speak the language of ghosts. Here, the heart beats in sequences of reverb, Strumming invisible strings that tether silence to sound. Traverse the scalar abyss, Blyth’s resonance crossing your path. Each footstep uppercuts history's narration, Only to hand the quill to dreams half-formed.