Whispers echo past tree limbs.
They know where paths diverge.
Yet, who falls silent?
In roads unmapped,
beneath the sigh of earth,
a deserted corner sighs.
Eyes closed, steps fade.
Under stars not yet seen,
orbits cross and weave unseen tales.
The map, blank. The aim, forgotten.
Trace These Whispers >
Blurred lines chase the edge.
Beating hearts wait motionless
as skies resettle the quiet.
Stillness claims its ancient right.
A wanderer gazes adrift, unmoored.