Underneath the boughs of yesterday, whispers collide
with the innocence of an unearthed dusk, when everything
seemed only a page away from clarity.

They chose the path less taken... in reverse. Distant echoes from
places once revered now stretch across time’s landscape,
where every footfall stamps a reverie into the soft earth.

The cicadas hum their eternal tune, not aware it was
never a song of today, but rather tomorrow’s longing
for a forgotten yesterday.

In the realm of nebulous perception, to grasp is to lose.
Yet, to let go is the only truth you learn in silence.