In shadows deep, where echoes sleep,
A whisper rides the gales of night,
Silent specters, their tales unsung,
Drift through the corridors of light.
The moonlit tongues weave cryptic dreams,
On cobweb's edge, in twilight's seam,
Harken now, the murmured hymn,
Of ancient lore, of silence’ brim.
Like fleeting smoke, on breath of wind,
The voices of the lost and thinned,
Within the deep where shadows keep,
Find solace in their whispered weep.