In this unraveling dusk,
silently, the echoes bleed.
Each rock, a witness to
the unrepentant whispers,
the ugliest truths etched
beneath the brittle crust of time.
A lone tree sighs in protest,
lost amongst the shadows—
roots entwined with broken histories,
leaves murmur secrets
only the wind dares not keep.
Here lies the unspoken agony,
the landscape's quiet lament,
as tomorrow's sun rises
over today's silent screams,
painting pain in hues
of an unwelcome dawn.