Echoes of the Hollow

In silent chambers where shadows weep,
A soul unmoored drifts, fathoms deep.
The air, thick laden with ghosts of sighs,
Chokes the dawn in ashen skies.

A clock relentless carves the years,
Each chime a dagger dull with tears.
Yet walls unfeeling bear no mark,
Only echoes in the dark.

Lips that whisper to the void,
Hands that grasp yet clasp the void,
A heart, a husk, an empty art,
A requiem of a fractured heart.

But somewhere distant, light intrudes,
Soft and slow, it bends the hues.
The echoes shift, the dark recedes,
And silent chambers learn to breathe.

In silent chambers where shadows weep,
A soul once lost begins to speak.