Lost words scatter in the twilight, an echo of a forgotten promise etched in mist. Through the whirling dance of the autumn leaves, You hear a tale of what could have been.
Like specters adrift without anchors,
voices of the gale weave through time, a tapestry unseen.
Embrace the whispers
and they may unveil secrets that lie deep within the earth's heart.
Who speaks through the winds —
an old spirit longing for communion,?
and echoes dance in dimensions parallel.
Shall we converse anew,
with the haunting figures draped in veils of gray?