In the quiet corners of forgotten dreams,
Where echoes of yesterday softly sing,
Lies a story woven through timeâs seams,
Of a soul seeking its true, eternal ring.
Beneath the shadows of whispering trees,
The heart beats to an ancient melody,
Each note a question, a gentle plea,
To uncover layers of identity.
Through the dance of light and shadow’s play,
The spirit wanders realms of night and day,
Searching for the voice that softly says,
“Here lies the truth, not far, but a breath away.”
So stand before the mirror’s silent gaze,
And listen to its quiet, hopeful praise,
For within the stillness, amidst the haze,
The self emerges in a tender blaze.