Two summers have passed, but no light ever came,
Only a ghost, and whispers without name.
It speaks through the void, with regret in its breath,
But bears no form—just the scent of death.

Each time it nears, it retreats once again,
Dissolving to nothing, like tears in the rain.
It erases the truth, then returns in the night,
To haunt every dream and swallow the light.

- Niko Randeni