Echoes, an eternity folded within glass,
the breath of yesterday articulated,
like rustling leaves of a time lost in itself.
In the heart of silver mist, shadows linger,
voices hum a tune unheard, unsung,
cacophony of memories unbidden, pyres of past regrets.
Is this the eternal return, resonating through quietude?
Touch me softly and listen, for the secrets are truths withheld.
These walls know your name.