In the dim glow of forgotten corridors,
where shadows weave tales untold,
I gaze into the ghostly panes,
and find myself lost within layers of time.

What secrets linger in those faded depths,
where whispers float like mist upon a lake?
Each reflection a poem, an elegy speaking
of identities intertwined with the mist of years.

A face fades here, a figure forms there,
weaving through the strands of a weaver's loom,
spun tales of the silken brightened skein
ensnare the mind, imprison the soul.

Do you hear them too? The untold echoes
murmuring sweetly, starkly, eternally?

Venture deeper into the reflections:
Whisper to Truth
Enigma of the Shadowdance
Sing the Oldsong