Echo Chamber

In the depths of a mirrored hall, a figure stands alone, A silhouette against the light, a soul overthrown. The ceiling above, a kaleidoscope of faces, A myriad of reflections, a cacophony of places. Each visage a story, a life, a moment in time, A fragment of the self, a shard of the mind. The figure below, a vessel, a container of pain, A bearer of the weight, the burden of the crowd's refrain. The light above, a radiant glow, a beacon in the dark, A call to ascend, to rise above the mark. The mirrored walls, a labyrinth, a maze to navigate, A test of the self, a journey to create. In this hall of echoes, the figure finds its voice, A whisper in the darkness, a choice to rejoice. For in the multitude of faces, a truth is revealed, That the self is not alone, that it is not concealed.