Within these faux whispering walls, of a memory's lie
There's a viable world beyond, perpetually passing by
Here's not a place for ghosts, or even death's, lost lair
Or the purgatorial dungeon, of an ebbing life's despair
Within here, where insularity, sprawls and idly wends
Are open portals, where the impious soul transcends
Encompassed by eternity, reveries may clone a trace
To follow tomorrow unfurling, in a void of inner space
Within immortality's squalls, there is no way to dream
With nowhere, for conjuration, just a pixelated screen
On which to watch and wonder, immune to any strife
Until darkness, finally falls, at the end of time and life
Within dying embers palls, where every memory dies
The ominous world beyond exists, under ashen skies
Here's not a place for ghosts, or even, insanity's fever
For through an open portal, the soul returns to Aether
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