In chambers vast, where shadows kiss the walls, serenity drips like a slowly mending scar.
No passage trivial, in this vast unknowing,
Each step an ember falling through a hollow mist,
Carving paths in the endless, yawning vowel...
The echoes reverberate against time's crooked frame;
They echo again, not in songs, but in parting breaths—
Like ghostly soliloquies in empty ballrooms of forlorn demolitions.
Cloaked in murmurs; secrets draped like vines—moving, always moving
In corridors unknown, exploring an echo's silent privacy.