Beneath the layers of our soil lies a silent choir. Echoes of tongues once vibrant, left to ponder in their shadowy sanctuaries. As time weaves its relentless tapestry, these voices whisper through the cracks of forgotten realms, tales unwoven in the muted night.
Remember those who spoke beyond words. They etched desires and dreams into dust, unaware of the dust that would enshroud them. Each curve a longing; each line a question. Do they listen still, to the mumbled histories of hearts that beat, that break?
At the Intersection of Dream and Reality Forgotten Echoes