in the half-light dusk, echoes of the forgotten wander
they whisper through the corridors of long | lost dreams.
a door opens to nowhere, and yet, somewhere calls.
listen: the clock ticks — tick | tock, ticking into oblivion.
flicker of stars, or perhaps an illusion of dust, trickle in the silvery haze.
the pathways diverge, yet one is compelled to follow, even with blind stages...
observe the silent ballet between shadows and luminescence — a ritual long forgotten by time .