Whispers Through Amber

Once, among the haunted branches, they spoke of time standing still, whispered words stolen

from diaries bound by amber's embrace. Do you hear her? The nameless echo wandering paths untrodden.

No destination just the scent of a forgotten autumn overlooking deepened orange-gold valleys...

"The key is not in finding sanity," murmurs a voice imbued with the sound of rustling leaves,

"but in accepting its inevitable dissolve before splendor."

Holding onto words carved into thin air, guiding towards somewhere infinitely distant yet comfortingly familiar.