the hush of sacred halls, where shadows play,
We lift our eyes, our voices, and our fears,
To idols wrought in fleeting fame's array,
Their glances bright, yet cold as passing years.

Eyes like stars, they shimmer in the night,
We chase their gleam through every whispered name,Lost in the worship of their dazzling light, And in that glow, our dreams ignite a flame.

But here, amid the echoes of our praise,
The...