Ephemeral Roots
They whispered, the roots beneath the ephemeral soil, coaxing memories of places unreal. Lost corridors of dreams stretch endlessly beneath my feet, each step a recording of past wanderers, echoes bouncing off walls unseen, reminding me that nothing stays... nothing grows without the decaying anchor. Umbra of roots, tendrils far below, weaving through the dark soil crust. I am only a traveler, collecting whispers, carrying shadows.
What was it like... before the world became a series of forgotten paths? I remember... I think, shadows whisper secrets. Dreams dream, yet I am awake. I clothe meself in mist and wander unseen roads. Echoes call my name, but I have none... roots holding nothing yet holding everything.
Press for Silence
Back to the Spiral
Into the Whispering Wood