E l o q u e n c e

In the shadowed alleys of thought,
where sunlight dares not tread,
truths lie, wrapped in the dusk.

Silence speaks—
a fragile melody, weaving through the void.
Listen...
for the echoes are all that remain.

If these pages were voices,
they would sing softly
of dreams long forgotten,
of paths unnoticed,
whispers lost
in the waiting dawn.