Rustlings of the Ancients

Within the echo of bronze leaves,
where shadows melt into dawn's hopeful sigh,
an unsung hymn of marbled whispers arise: who hums the forgotten eternity?

Beneath quiescent sands,
the gentle urge of history rustles,
past voices murmuring timeless anecdotes, what do they thus conceal?

Listen: the ancient monolith weeps neither joy nor lament,
Yet, a cacophony of silence speaks forth,
a resonance echoing in the dream of long-buried storms.

The ceaseless rotation of stone and legend,
in the dim space between worlds,
a lullaby written in fractured light and shadow.