Whispering Sand
Beneath each grain, whispers die,
Echoes of civilizations crumbled,
Stories narrated in shadows,
Inscribed on the hearts of winds.
There was a town, perhaps, once, long forgotten,
Its arches sang with voices of old,
Now but palimpsests on sand,
Carried by time's relentless embrace.
Gaze into the dusk, and you may see,
Figures carved in twilight mist,
They speak in riddles, in languages,
No longer spoken, yet known to all.
Wander carefully along these shores,
Where the desert meets the edge of dreams,
And carry a piece of every whispered truth,
Back into the world awake.