The mists envelop whispered ambitions, snaring them in a translucent web,
akin to a dormant heart resting in twilight’s embrace.
Once in their quiet fractals, secrets wept softly beneath ancient oaks
with roots deep as dreams are wide.
I tread lightly upon their feather-shrouded graves—
each step a stifled sigh, a desperate longing woven into the shadowed earth.
An analysis, my only companion as I document the sand-sculpted truths
of a world too often obscured by the chirping veil of night.