A silent echo of forgotten travelers,
brushing their fingers against the fabric of clouds,
tracing paths of dreams long erased,
ink washed away in the deluge of time.
Once the earth sang beneath their feet,
stories woven into the soil,
but now, only whispers fill the air,
memories of a forgotten sun,
drenched in the hues of histories barely spoken.
Hovering between what was and what may be,
the horizon stretches,
a painted canvas of longing and hope,
suspended forever in twilight's embrace.
Journey onward,
through etheric mists and veiled forevers,
where celestial secrets are hidden,
in fragments of palimpsests,
waiting to be whispered into existence.