The Echo of Ages

 
In the silent catacombs of stars, I roam,
where history carves its immortal line,
ancient voices call like an astral tome,
and I drift in the pull of time's design.

I speak of empires forged, lost in sand,
where kings’ names fade, but shadows remain,
and the cosmos, a vast and knowing land,
whispers truths that none can feign.

What mysteries the ages have sown,
in minds that sought the divine and arcane—
I follow paths not yet fully grown,
for in knowledge lives both fire and bane.