Dig, if you must, through the ashes of yesteryears,
Etched upon dim silences, where voices once danced.
Beneath the sorrowful whispers of forgotten winds,
Lie diamonds buried deep in the dark,
Shimmering with secrets, longing for breath.
Every stone a tale, woven in breaths unsaid,
The glimmer of truth hidden in shadowed recesses.
Once, these tales blossomed in extravagance,
Now, they nestle in the womb of obscurity.
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To unearth the palimpsest
Pan the ages with tender fingers,
For history is a tapestry,
Threaded with lies, entwined with truths—