Chronicle's Spire
Reflection
In the depths of time, a monolith stands tall,
A sentinel of moments, beyond them all.
Numbers etched upon its ancient face,
A code to unlock the secrets of time and space.
The misty veil that shrouds the past,
Lifts to reveal the truths that will forever last.
In mystic glow, the digits shine so bright,
Guiding us through the labyrinth of night.
A symbol of the journey we all must take,
Through trials and tribulations, for our spirits to make.
The chronicle's spire, a beacon in the dark,
Illuminates the path, a work of art.
It stands as witness to the moments we hold dear,
A testament to the memories we hold so near.
In its silent vigil, we find our own reflection,
A mirror to the soul, in introspection.
The numbers whisper secrets, of a story untold,
A tale of time, where moments unfold.