Chronicles of the Lost

the fragmented memory slips between fingers like shadows in dusk.

Not all stories are heard
some breathe silently beneath the waves,
buried in echoes of forgotten paths.

A voice whispers, perhaps your own,

amongst rusted relics shimmering in

the fading light. What do you seek?

Endless pursuit of fragments news of lost things, hidden beneath the sands.

The sun sets, weaving its tapestry on the horizon with threads of
silence and whispers
that hunger to be found.