Deeper Concepts

Then, silence. Echoes forgotten, steps untread.
Mysteries woven tightly, threads unravel at dawn.

The tree remains.
Unyielding against sunsets, against tomorrows.

Was it ever written? The words lingered, sighing at the margins.

In shadows, whispers speak.
A language that never learned to grow, continuously halting in its breath.

Clouds gather, but storms lack understanding.
Infirm, dispersed, narratives unfurl like transient dust.

If only to remember shapes, contours tracing the ephemeral.

Yet, the voices never cease. Origin and destination, an eternal jest.